UC-NRLF 


$B    SIM    T77 


LETTERS   FROM   ITALY 


*^, 


V, 


LETTERS 


FROM 


FLORENCE,  ITALY,  IN  1866 


By 

MRS.  HARRIETTK  MATTKINI 


PUBLISHED    IN    1893 

BY   he;r    daughter 
FANNY    WINCHESTER    HOTCHKISS 


JDS'/oi 


r-'\  =■ 


) 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  following  letters,  by  Mrs.  Harriette  Matteini, 
are  published  for  the  sake  of  her  grandchildren,  that 
they  may  possess  something  from  her  gifted  pen. 
They  were  written  at  a  time  of  great  political  excite- 
ment in  Italy,  when  Victor  Emmanuel  II.  though 
King  of  Italy,  did  not  reign  over  the  whole  of  his 
kingdom.  Venice  and  Rome  were  still  lacking  to  his 
crown.  Cavour,  the  distinguished  statesman,  had 
passed  away,  and  Garibaldi,  v/ith  his  red-shirted  fol- 
lowers, was  still  fighting  the  battles  of  the  nation. 

This  introduction,  compiled  from  different  authors, 
is  given  in  order  to  throw  some  light  upon  the  very 
interesting  period  in  which  these  letters  were  written. 
Mrs.  Matteini,  long  a  resident  among  the  people  she 
loved  and  admired,  recognizing  their  faults,  appre- 
ciating their  virtues,  heartily  sympathized  with  them 
during  their  long  and  weary  struggle  for  national 
union  and  libert5^  To  understand  the  Italy  of  that 
period,  we  must  glance  back,  and  trace  the  causes, 
which  in  1866,  led  to  the  events  described  in  the  fol- 
lowing pages.  Since  the  fall  of  the  great  Napoleon, 
the  countries  of  Europe  had  been  in  a  constant  state 


iV!S24.195 


of  agitation.  Previous  to  this  event,  the  French 
nation,  had  through  her  armies,  carried  new  and  rad- 
ical ideas  into  the  countries  she  had  invaded,  and 
brought  under  Napoleon's  sway. 

The  events  of  1796  and  1798  had  aroused  in  the 
Italians  new  views  and  hopes  in  regard  to  constitu- 
tional freedom.  The  principles  of  the  Code  Napoleon 
had  been  introduced  into  Italy,  and  into  nearly  all 
the  German  dependencies  of  France.  Then  came  the 
overthrow  of  the  great  conqueror,  and  the  restoration 
of  the  dispossessed  princes.  These  monarchs,  instead 
of  pursuing  the  liberal  policy  of  the  invader,  went 
back  to  the  old  regime.  They  oppressed  their  sub- 
jects, allowed  them  no  religious  or  political  freedom, 
and  for  a  time  darkness  seemed  to  hover  over  the 
continent,  and  absolutism  reigned  .supreme.  But  the 
taste  for  liberty  could  not  be  so  easily  destroyed.  The 
people  had  found  out  what  freedom  meant — the  .seed, 
so  freely  sown,  permeated  and  vivified  the  nations  of 
Europe,  and  though  kings  and  emperors  sought  to 
stifle  this  new  and  powerful  element  in  the  souls  of 
men,  it  could  not  be  crushed.  The  germ  lay  dor- 
mant for  a  season,  to  be  quickened  from  time  to  time 
and  manifest  itself  in  those  frequent  uprisings,  con- 
flicts and  revolutions,  that  shook  Europe  during  the 
first  part  of  the  19th  century.  The  people  had  been 
enlightened — the  nations  of  the  Eastern  Continent 
could  not  again  relapse  for  anj'  long  period,  into  the 

4 


condition  of  the  i8th  century.  But  to  turn  to  Italy — 
Mettemich  regarded  that  country,  as  well  as  Ger- 
many, as  his  especial  province.  Similar  conditions 
existed  in  both.  That  country,  like  Germany,  was  a 
conglomerate  of  numerous  separate,  mutually  inde- 
pendent states,  whose  princes  had  estranged  their 
subjects  by  their  restoration  policy.  These  princes 
had  now  as  colleague,  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  the 
latter  having  taken  possession  of  Milan  and  Venice — 
both  valuable  parts  of  the  Napoleonic  inheritance. 
Francis  Joseph  was  determined  to  substitute  his  influ- 
ence for  that  of  France,  and  from  upper  Italy,  to  rule 
the  whole  peninsula.  With  this  end  in  view,  Austria 
must  spread  in  Italy  the  principles  of  the  Holy  Alli- 
ance. She  must  repress  with  all  her  might  all  aspira- 
tions after  freedom,  any  attempts  at  written  constitu- 
tions or  liberty  of  the  Press,  all  longings  for  national 
unity.  But  the  question  whether  the  German  long- 
suffering  would  be  imitated  by  the  passionate,  impul- 
sive inhabitants  of  Italy,  whether  they  would  adapt 
themselves  to  the  old  feudal  relations  again,  still 
remained  to  be  answered.  The  transition  from  the 
French  rule  to  that  of  the  old  dynasties,  was  far 
sharper  in  Italy  than  in  Germany.  In  the  latter 
country,  the  pre-existing  governments  had  main- 
tained themselves  under  Napoleon.  In  Italy  not  a 
single  sovereign  had  remained  upon  his  throne,  but 
a  good  and  wise  government  had  been  given  to  the 
5 


people  and  under  it  the  country  had  prospered.     Had 
the  returning  royal  families  retained  the  good  of  the 
French  institutions,   they  might  have  won   the  love 
and   allegiance  of  their  subjects,    but   instead,   they 
connected  themselves  immediately  with  the  old  con- 
ditions, and  only  allowed  such  institutions  to  remain, 
as  lent  power  and  splendor  to  their  authority.     Con- 
sequentl}^  dissatisfaction   spread   among   the   people, 
and  soon  reached  a  high  point.     There  was  no  lack 
of  organization  among  the  different  elements  of  oppo- 
sition,   for   the    league   of   the    Carbonari    (charcoal- 
burners)    had   definite   political   aims.      In   the   year 
1 8 19  it  was  estimated  that  there  were  about  60,000 
members   in   all    Italy,  their   headquarters   being   at 
Naples.     The  independence  and  unity  of  Italy  were 
the    aims   of  this   society,    but  whether   this   object 
should  be  attained  through  a  constitutional  monarchy 
or  a  republic,  was  still  an  open  question  among  them. 
Such  was  the  state  of  Italy  in  the  early  part  of  the 
19th   centur^^      Revolutions  and   riots   all   over   the 
peninsula   followed   each   other   in   close  succession. 
The    Carbonari,  lacking   the  full  cooperation   of  the 
people,  utterly  failed  in  their  attempts.     Metternich 
and   the    Austrians    conquered,    and   their  influence 
became  the  controlling  power  in  Italy. 

In  1 83 1  revolutions  and  war  broke  out  again,  but 
the  Italians  were  as  yet  no  match  for  their  enemies, 
therefore  all  their  hatred  was  diredted  against  foreign 


rule,  as  the  onlj^  obstacle  to  the  freedom  and  unity 
of  the  peninsula.  Joseph  Mazzini,  then  an  exile  in 
England,  took  care  that  the  national  spirit  should 
not  be  buried  beneath  material  interests,  but  should 
remain  ever  wakeful.  Then  came  the  years  1848-49, 
and  all  the  struggles  in  central  and  southern  Italy 
stood  in  close  connection  with  the  events  of  those 
years  in  upper  Italy.  The  hopes  of  the  nation  were 
centered  on  Sardinia,  and  her  King  Charles  Albert, 
but  they  were  doomed  to  disappointment  until  Victor 
Emmanuel  II.  ascended  the  throne  in  1849.  He, 
with  Cavour  and  Garibaldi,  became  in  later  years,  the 
upholder  of  Italian  freedom  and  unity,  and  under  him 
Italy  was  united  into  one  powerful  kingdom.  But 
this  was  not  accomplished  until  1870.  Napoleon 
III.,  who  in  1856  was  the  recognized  arbiter  of  the 
destinies  of  Europe,  no  longer  held  in  1866  the 
balance  of  power  in  his  hands.  His  influence  was  on 
the  wane,  but  with  intrigues  and  artifices  he  sought 
to  strengthen  his  position.  On  the  28th  of  May 
1866,  in  conjunction  with  the  cabinets  of  London 
and  St.  Petersburg,  he  extended  in  Vienna,  Florence, 
Berlin  and  Frankfort,  invitations  to  a  peace  confer- 
ence to  take  place  in  Paris. 

This  conference  was  to  consider  the  important  ques- 
tions of  the  moment,  namely  the  disposition  to  be 
made  of  the  Elbe  duchies,  the  Italian  claims  on 
Venetia  and  Trentino,  and,  in  so  far  as  it  concerned 


the  European  balance  of  power,  the  reorganization 
of  the  German  Confederation.  Prussia,  Italy,  and 
the  Diet  accepted  the  invitation.  Austria  would  only 
accept  on  condition,  that  every  combination  looking 
to  the  enlargement  of  the  territory,  or  the  increase 
of  the  power  of  any  one  of  the  invited  states,  be 
excluded  from  the  discussions.  England  and  France 
declared  the  conference  impossible  under  such  condi- 
tions, and  the  plan  was  abandoned.  The  diplomatic 
game  which  Napoleon  was  playing,  was  full  of  per- 
fidious double-dealing.  He  desired  a  war  between 
Prussia  and  Austria,  hoping  that  it  would  be  of  long 
duration,  greatly  weakening  both  parties,  and  that  it 
would  finally  result  in  forcing  Prussia,  of  whose 
defeat  he  felt  confident,  to  accede  to  his  plans  of  con- 
quest. It  was  in  this  hope  that  he  urged  Prussia  into 
war,  assuring  her  of  his  neutrality,  and  giving  his 
consent  to  the  Prussian-Italian  alliance,  concluded 
April  8th,  1866.  By  this  treaty  Italy  pledged  herself 
to  stand  by  Prussia,  in  case,  within  three  months,  the 
latter  became  involved  in  war,  on  account  of  her 
reform  measures,  while  in  the  like  event  Prussia 
promised  the  King  of  Italy  her  assistance  in  the 
acquisition  of  Venetia.  Bismarck  would  not  consent 
to  the  further  demand  of  the  Italian  minister-presi- 
dent lya  Marmora  that  the  Trentino  should  be 
annexed  to  Italy,  since  that  involved  the  cession  of 
territory   belonging   to   the    German    Confederation. 

i 


These  negotiations  were  conducted  with  Napoleon's 
full  cognizance,  not  a  single  step  being  taken  without 
his  consent.  This  alliance  was  to  tear  Venetia  from 
Austria,  and  keep  a  part  of  the  Austrian  army  busy 
on  the  Mincio.  In  seeking  Prussia's  friendship, 
Napoleon  wished  to  carry  out  his  own  plans  for  the 
aggrandizement  of  France,  by  changes  in  regard  to 
Belgium  and  the  Rhine  frontier,  thus  gratifying  the 
pride  of  the  French  nation  and  securing  his  own 
dynasty  upon  the  throne.  As  soon  however  as  he 
perceived  that  his  proposals  to  Prussia  were  not 
favorably  entertained,  he  used  every  effort  to  secure 
her  defeat,  as  a  means  of  rendering  her  more  amen- 
able to  his  demands.  For  this  purpose  he  endeavored 
to  undermine  the  Italian  alliance,  confirm  Austria  in 
her  warlike  mood,  and  obtain  from  her  the  most 
favorable  terms  possible  for  France.  Thus  at  the 
instigation  of  France,  May  5th,  1866,  Austria  offered 
the  Italian  cabinet  Venetia,  free  of  compensation,  on 
the  sole  condition  that  Italy  should  remain  neutral 
in  the  approaching  struggle  between  Austria  and 
Prussia.  The  temptation  was  great,  but  the  breach 
of  treaty  was  too  flagrant ;  the  offer  was  therefore 
rejected,  and  the  alliance  with  Prussia  remained 
unbroken.  Then  followed  the  German-Italian  war, 
the  most  important  one  which  had  occurred  m 
Europe  since  181 5,  on  account  of  the  territorial 
changes  which   took   place   in   the   map  of  Kurope. 


Victor  Emmanuel  declared  war  against  Austria  June 
2oth,  1866, — then  followed  the  defeat  of  the  Italians 
at  Custoza  (Jime  24th)  and  the  naval  defeat  at  Lissa 
(July  20th) .     These  disasters  might  have  proved  fatal 
to  the  cause  of  Italy,  indeed  would  have  delayed  for 
many  years,  if  not  destroyed  the  object  of  the  nation's 
endeavors,   a  united   Italy,   had  it  not   been    for  the 
brilliant  and  continued  successes  of  their  allies,  the 
Prussians,   whose  arms  were  victorious  everywhere. 
Led  by  Prince  Frederic  Charles,  Gen.  Herwarth  von 
Bittenfeld   and   the   Crown   Prince  of  Prussia,  they 
proved  themselves  more  than  a  match  for  commander- 
in-chief  Benedek,  and  the  able  generals  at  the  head 
of    the    Austrian    army,    defeating    them    in    every 
encounter.       Finally  July    3rd,    1866,    occurred   the 
hard-fought  battle  of  Sadowa  or  Koniggratz,  in  which 
the  Prussians  utterly  and  completely  routed  the  Aus- 
trians,    and   almost   annihilated   their  army.       This 
battle  virtually  decided   the   campaign,    though   the 
fighting  still  continued  in  Italy  and  Germany.     July 
13th,  Archduke  Albert  assumed  the  chief  command 
of  all  the  Austrian  armies,  and  Benedek  was  deprived 
of  his   office.     The   emperor  of  Austria  could  think 
of  no  more   skillful   means  to   check   the  victorious 
advance  of  the  enemy  towards  Vienna,  than  the  ces- 
sion to  Napoleon,  before  all  the  world,  of  the  prov- 
ince of  Venetia,  which  had  already  been  ceded  secretly, 
and  the  use  of  his  intervention  for  the  restoration  of 

10 


peace.  Accordingly  on  the  5th  of  July,  the  cession 
of  Venetia  to  France  was  made  public.  The  emperor 
was  convinced,  that  if  Venetia  became  a  French  prov- 
ince, Victor  Emmanuel  could  only  win  it  by  yielding 
to  Napoleon's  wishes.  Austria  would  then  have  her 
whole  southern  army  to  use  against  the  Prussians. 
Immediately  after  the  emperor  of  Austria  had  offered 
Venetia  to  lyouis  Napoleon,  the  greater  part  of  the 
Austrian  army  in  Italy  was  withdrawn  to  the  Dan- 
ube, to  be  employed  in  fighting  Prussia,  and  the 
Italians,  led  by  Gen.  Cialdini,  met  vnth  but  little 
resistance  to-  their  new  advance  into  Venetia.  The 
volunteers,  under  Garibaldi,  were  to  cooperate  with 
Cialdini' s  army,  by  invading  south-western  Tyrol. 
But  Victor  Emmanuel  would  not  recognize  the  ces- 
sion of  Venetia  to  Napoleon,  nor  did  he  wish  to 
accept  from  that  monarch  a  pro\'ince,  the  Italians 
were  eager  to  win  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet.  Napo- 
leon endeavored,  by  the  offer  of  Venetia,  to  dissuade 
Italy  from  the  further  prosecution  of  the  war,  and 
hoped  to  induce  both  Italy  and  Prussia  to  conclude 
an  immediate  truce,  but  neither  of  the  allies  would 
follow  his  advice.  Unable,  therefore,  on  account  of 
the  Prussian-Italian  alliance,  to  use  the  Austrian  gift 
in  the  way  he  had  intended.  Napoleon  let  matters 
take  their  own  course.  It  seemed  as  if  war  between 
Italy  and  Austria  was  again  imminent,  when  Victor 
Emmanuel,  finally  realizing  the  great  risk  of  engag- 
11 


ing  single-handed  in  a  war  with  Austria,  yielded  at 
length  to  the  counsels  of  Napoleon  and  King  Wil- 
liam, and  withdrawing  his  claims  upon  the  Italian- 
speaking  Southern-Tyrol,  accepted  Venetia  from  the 
hands  of  France.  A  peace  between  Austria  and  Italy 
was  signed  in  Vienna,  October  3rd,  1866,  and  the  iron 
crown  of  L,ombardy  was  at  length  handed  over  to  Vic- 
tor Emmanuel.  On  the  i6th  of  October,  Venice  was 
evacuated  and  on  the  i8th  Napoleon,  through  Gen. 
lycboeuf,  surrendered  the  city  to  a  committee  of  the 
common  council,  and  the  Italian  troops  marched  in. 
The  vote  upon  the  union  of  Venetia  with  the  King- 
dom of  Italy,  took  place  on  the  21st  and  22d  of  Octo- 
ber, 651,758  persons  voting  in  its  favor,  while  only 
69  voted  against  it.  November  4th  this  result  was 
communicated  to  the  King  in  Turin  by  a  Venetian  dep- 
utation. In  reply  Victor  Emmanuel  said  :  "To-day 
the  foreign  rule  has  come  to  an  end.  Italy  is  created, 
but  not  yet  completed.  The  Italians  must  defend  it 
and  make  it  great." 

November  7th,  1866.  Victor  Emmanuel  entered 
Venice.  The  dream  of  the  old  Carbonari  of  a  united 
Italy  had  almost  reached  its  fulfillment,  for  isolated 
Rome  could  not  much  longer  hold  out  against  the 
march  of  the  century.  To  the  victors  of  Sadowa, 
Italy  owed  the  acquisition  of  a  province  without  a 
single  victory,  her  army  and  her  navy  having  been 
completely  defeated  at  Custoza  and  at   Lissa ;   such 

12 


success  in  disaster  has  not  a  second  example  in  the 
history  of  war.  But  in  spite  of  this  fact,  it  must  be 
acknowledged  that  for  years  the  Italians  had  been 
fighting  bravely  and  indefatigably  for  national  union 
and  independence,  and  though  in  their  last  struggle, 
others  had  gathered  the  laurels  they  longed  for,  yet 
through  defeat  and  suffering  a  nation  had  been  bom, 
worthy  to  occupy  the  new  kingdom  allotted  to  them. 
Three  great  men  stand  forth  conspicuously  at  this 
transition  period  of  Italy's  history — Victor  Emmanuel, 
Cavour,  Garibaldi.  The  first  for  his  steadfastness  and 
unwavering  faith  in  the  cause  he  had  espoused  and 
the  people  over  whom  he  reigned,  the  second,  for  his 
remarkable  sagacity  in  the  conduct  of  affairs,  the 
third  for  his  unswerving  devotion  to  the  cause  of  lib- 
erty, his  untiring  battle  against  wrong,  and  patriotic 
love  of  his  country.  These  three  men  were  united  in 
one  noble  purpose,  the  deliverance  of  their  country 
from  a  foreign  yoke,  and  at  last  their  efforts  were 
crowned  with  success.  They  achieved  what  they 
had  undertaken — United  Italy  was  no  longer  an  idea, 
it  was  an  accomplished  fact,  and  Metternich's  famous 
saying  that  ' '  Italy  was  but  a  geographical  expres- 
sion ' '  was  utterly  refuted.  Cavour  will  always 
stand  at  the  head  of  Italy's  great  statesmen — Victor 
Emmanuel  as  Italy's  wise  king — Garibaldi  as  Italy's 
patriot  warrior — the  hero  of  the  present  and  of  the 
future.     All  contributed  to  mould  the  nation's  policy. 

13 


Either  alone  would  have  failed,  but  the  threefold  cord 
none  could  resist.  At  their  united  call  the  peopl^ 
arose,  shook  off  their  fetters,  and  stood  noble  and 
free,  a  nation  among  men. 


14 


LETTERS. 


Florence,  Italy,  May  25,  1866. 

In  spite  of  all  the  talk  about  a  Congress, 
though  Italy  and  Prussia  are  believed  to  have 
consented  to  its  reunion,  every  one  feels  and 
knows  that  the  war  is  a  certainty  and  will 
soon  be  a  reality.  The  wish  for  the  war  grows 
more  profound  and  intense  every  day,  and  its 
demonstrations  more  enthusiastically  ardent. 
The  volunteering  fever  has  become  a  frenzy, 
that  it  is  difficult  to  keep  within  prudent 
bounds,  and  the  popular  sympathy  keeps  pace 
with  it.  The  doors  of  the  various  offices  of 
enrollment  are  surrounded  by  crowds  of  young 
men,  hours  and  hours  before  they  are  opened, 
and  in  some  instances  so  great  has  been  their 
impatience  to  enter,  and  their  eagerness  to  be 
comprised  in  the  first  hundred  who  will  leave, 
that  the  doors  themselves  have  been  liter- 
is 


ally  forced  in,  and  tlie  departure  of  the  detach- 
ments has  been  accompanied  with  such 
tumultuous,  unbridled  marks  of  the  popular 
sympathy,  that  the  government  has  felt  com- 
pelled to  suspend  them  for  a  few  days  ;  they 
are,  however,  to  be  resumed  to-day.  The  dis- 
inclination that  the  government  displayed  in 
the  first  instance  for  the  aid  and  cooperation 
of  the  volunteers  seems  to  have  disappeared, 
and  it  is  reported  that  the  King  has  consented 
to  the  formation  of  several  new  battalions, 
some  say  as  many  as  thirty  or  forty,  in  order 
that  none  who  apply  may  be  refused,  and  it 
certainly  would  be  a  pity  to  deny  the  Italian 
youth  the  free  exercise  of  the  only  virtue,  that 
centuries  of  a  bad  government  and  a  perverted 
religion  have  left  them.  To  those  who  know 
the  national  charadler  well,  it  is  evident  that 
the  only  hope  for  the  future  regeneration  of 
Italy,  lies  in  the  development  and  proper 
direction  of  her  patriotism.  It  is  her  one  sur- 
viving virtue,  the  root,  from  which  the  plant 
of  national  honor  must  spring,  and  God  be 
praised  that  in  one  virtue  resides  such  divine 

16 


vitality,  that  it  can  become  the  prolific  source 
of  every  other.  But  these  are  too  stirring 
times  for  moralizing.  The  war  is  at  our  doors  ; 
nor  kings,  nor  emperors,  nor  cabinets,  nor 
congresses,  can  prevent  its  passing  their 
threshold.  One  only  among  all  these  princi- 
palities and  powers  could  ever  have  prevented 
it,  but  even  he  is  powerless  now.  Yes  !  Napo- 
oleon  III.  had  once  that  power,  but  the  will 
was  wanting.  He  wanted  the  war,  he  plotted 
for  it,  he  meant  to  have  it.  He  it  was  who 
turned  a  cold  ear  to  the  first  proposal  of  a  con- 
gress, thus  giving  time  for  warlike  prepara- 
tions and  the  exasperation  of  the  popular 
sentiment ;  he  it  was  who  acquiesced  in  it  only, 
when  too  late  for  any  useful  purpose,  he, 
whose  silence  encouraged,  whose  oracular  and 
mystical  words  stimulated,  and  he  it  is,  who, 
if  the  truth  were  known  and  all  the  mazes  of 
his  tortuous  policy  revealed,  will  be  found  to 
have  instigated  and  originated  the  war !  And 
what  wonder?  By  what  other  means  could 
his  hatred  of  the  treaties  of  1815  be  gratified  ? 
But  what  matters  it  to  Italy  who  originated 

17 


the  war?  Her  business  is  to  profit  by  it. 
Nor  will  she  be  inclined  to  quarrel  with  a  pol- 
icy, that  affords  her  an  opportunity  of  vindi- 
cating the  national  valor  and  obtaining  her 
territorial  integrity.  So  VIVE  Napoleon  III, 
since  his  name  must,  per  force,  be  blended 
with  those  of  patriots  and  princes  who  better 
deserve  the  honor.  Nor  will  it  be  the  first 
time  that  an  unworthy  head  has  been  crowned 
with  unmerited  laurels.  Nevertheless,  if  Italy 
and  Prussia  were  wise,  they  would  reject  his 
further  interference,  and,  strong  in  their 
union,  fight  their  own  battles  and  win  their 
own  victories,  without  his  costly  and  danger- 
ous cooperation.  But  why  do  I  speak  of  Italy 
or  Prussia  or  any  other  nation  fighting  undis- 
turbed, unaided  and  unhindered,  their  own 
battles,  when  new  and  unexpected  events  are 
happening  every  day,  that  render  such  lib- 
erty of  action  impossible.  The  battle  of  a 
nation,  such  is  its  solidarity  now-a-days  with 
every  other,  is  a  world's  battle  ;  and  even  now 
the  news  arrives,  that  in  consequence  of  the 
unanticipated    arrival    of   Prince    Charles    de 

18 


Holienzollern  in  the  Danubian  Principalities, 
Moldavia  has  been  simultaneously  occupied 
by  the  Turks  and  Russians  !  Here  is  a  com- 
bination indeed,  little  short  of  portentous,  and 
it  looks,  too,  as  if  the  portent  had  not  been 
wholly  unforeseen,  for  we  know  that  the  con- 
ference engaged  upon  the  affairs  of  the  Danu- 
bian Principalities  has  only  thus  far  reached 
a  purely  negative  character,  seeming  thus  dis- 
inclined to  settle  it  independently  of  the  other 
questions  that  agitate  Europe. 

26th. — One  is  the  sport  and  the  victim  of 
telegrams,  and  it  appears  as  if  their  only 
object  was  to  contradict  each  other  and  increase 
the  general  confusion.  To-day  we  learn  that 
it  was  all  a  mistake — the  news  of  yesterday, 
that  the  Turks  and  Russians  had  entered  the 
Moldavia ;  they  haven't  entered  it  at  all, 
though  probably  will,  for  sometimes  the  mis- 
chievous telegrams  are  prospectively  true,  and 
it  will  probably  be  found  so  in  this  case,  as  it 
is  not  to  be  supposed  that  a  sovereign,  duly 
and  lawfully  elected  by  the  people,  would  be 
allowed  to  take  quiet  possession  of  his  sceptre 

19 


and  crown,  unmolested  by  those,  who  have 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  matter.  Cer- 
tainly not !  In  the  meantime,  we  are  threatened 
anew  with  a  Congress.  Still  a  Congress  !  This 
sword  of  Damocles  is  still  suspended  over  our 
devoted  heads,  and  they  do  say  it  really  will 
be ;  not  to  accomplish  anything  in  the  way  of 
peace-making,  of  course,  but  as  a  sort  of  gen- 
eral-responsibility safety-valve,  I  suppose. 
Well,  let  them  talk  it  out  if  they  like,  and 
what  a  delightful  instance  of  harmony  between 
war  and  diplomacy  would  be  afforded  if,  while 
the  pen  ceded  Venetia,  the  sword  took  it ! 

I  have  just  learned  that  in  consequence 
of  the  completion  of  the  twenty  battalions 
decreed  by  the  government,  the  enrollments 
will  be  suspended  until  all  the  volunteers 
have  left  for  their  several  headquarters  at 
Bari,  Barletta,  Varesi,  and  Como.  It  is  greatly 
regretted  by  people  in  general  that  the  gov- 
ernment persists,  in  spite  of  the  efforts  of  the 
distinguished  ex-Garibaldian  officers,  Mosto, 
and  Misson,  in  refusing  the  formation  of  the 
Italian  Carabineers  and  a  body  of  Guides.     A 


manifesto  was  published  yesterday,  requiring 
all  those  citizens,  who  owned  three  horses,  to 
offer  one  to  the  government,  those  who  had 
six,  two,  and  so  on,  in  proportion  to  the  num- 
ber of  horses  possessed  by  each  individual. 
In  case  of  refusal,  force  will  be  resorted  to. 
Menotti  Garibaldi  arrived  here  last  evening. 
It  is  reported  that  the  celebrated  deputy  Brof- 
ferio  is  dead.  Rumors  of  Bourbonian  and 
other  plots  are  rife  to-day.  The  reactionary 
party  feel  that  now  or  never  is  the  time,  and 
arrests  have  been  made  and  correspondence 
discovered,  implicating,  in  some  instances, 
some  of  the  most  distinguished  names  in  the 
kingdom,  among  others  that  of  Cesare  Cantu, 
the  celebrated  novelist  and  deputy.  It  is 
pleasant  to  think  that  all  their  efforts  will  be 
vain,  though  aided  by  a  self-styled  friendly 
diplomacy. 


21 


Florence,  Italy,  June  i,  1866. 

In  spite  of  the  conflicting  assertions  of  let- 
ters and  telegrams,  it  is  even  yet  uncertain 
whether  the  governments  to  whom  the  con- 
ference has  been  proposed,  have  or  have  not 
accepted  it,  and  in  the  meantime  the  three 
powers,  France,  England  and  Russia,  con- 
tinue to  act  as  if  persuaded  either  of  its 
inutility  or  impracticability,  and  Austria  is 
amicably  occupied  in  rendering  herself  every 
day  more  odious  to  the  Italians.  The  forced 
loan  of  twelve  million  florins,  just  ordered  in 
Venetia,  and  only  in  Venetia,  the  cruel  decree 
of  Toggensburg,  which  punishes  with  death 
the  Venetian  who  refuses  to  fight  his  country- 
men, the  spoliations  of  every  sort,  of  which 
that  unhappy  province  is  the  victim,  have 
exasperated  still  more  the  already  burning 
hatred  of  the  Italians  to  their  oppressors,  and 
increased  to  such  a  degree  their  contempt  for 
a  government,  that  dares  thus  insult  every 
sentiment  of  nationality  and  humanity,  that 
were  Austria  to-morrow  to  offer  Venice,  with- 

22 


out  compensation  or  ransom  to  the  Italians, 
they  would  not  willingl}^  accept  it.  They 
want  not  onlj^  Venice,  but  revenge^  and  conse- 
quently rejoice  over  every  new  instance  of 
the  bad  faith  and  impotenc}^  of  diplomacy. 
But  it  is  not  alone  the  Italians  who  lay  little 
stress  upon  its  pretended  efforts.  Prussia 
and  Austria  and  the  German  States  are 
equally  incredulous,  equally  regardless.  Ben- 
edek  has  already  left  Vienna  for  his  new 
quarters-general  at  Olmutz,  and  in  one  of  his 
orders  of  the  day,  he  expresses  the  hope  that 
his  army  will  consider  the  property  of  an  ene- 
my's country  as  sacred,  and  the  Archduke 
Charles,  in  one  of  his,  recalls  the  souvenirs  of 
Custoza  and  Novara.  King  William,  in  spite 
of  his  reported  disinclination  to  the  war, 
makes  patriotic  speeches,  proclaiming  it  his 
duty  to  defend  Prussia  and  her  sacred  soil. 
Francis  Joseph  announced  his  intention  of 
protecting  his  sacred  soil  against  unjustifiable 
aggression.  The  King  of  Wurtemburg  hesi- 
tates at  no  sacrifice  for  the  defence  of  his^  and 
all    together,    kings,   emperors    and    princes 

23 


invoke  God's  blessing  and  protection  on  the 
several  sacred  causes  they  espouse.  Russia 
looks  on,  England  advises,  and  France — hates 
the  treaties  of  i8i^  !  Is  anything  but  war 
possible,  and  must  not  all  this  sacred  soil 
receive  a  bloody  baptism,  ere  the  plant  of  a 
permanent  peace  can  take  root  ?  We  at  least 
in  Italy  think  so,  and  no  rumors  of  congresses 
or  conferences  disturb  our  tranquillity.  We 
hear  that  Austria  will  sell,  sell  for  money, 
Venetia.  We  do  not  believe  it,  we  know  that 
she  holds  it  as  the  apple  of  her  eye,  as  all 
stolen  fruit  is  held.  It  is  said  that  King  Wil- 
liam does  not  really  want  the  war,  only  that 
firebrand  Count  Bismarck ;  it  matters  not  to 
us,  wishing  or  not  wishing,  we  are  sure  that 
he  will  have  to  fight ;  again,  and  again  we  are 
told  that  Garibaldi  is  still  at  Caprera  and  the 
red  shirts  not  yet  made ;  we  know  it,  and  we 
know  too  that  Garibaldi  bides  his  time,  and 
that  with  or  without  red  shirts,  his  volunteers 
will  fight ;  it  is  reported  that  M.  Lazard  has 
had  a  talk  with  Napoleon  III.  and  is  per- 
suaded of  his  pacific  intentions ;  we  laugh  at 

24 


the  pacific  intentions,  and  the  talkative  goose 
that  proclaimed  them,  and  rely  about  as  much 
upon  his  penetration  as  we  should  upon  that 
of  his  illustrious  prototypes  of  Strasbourg. 
In  short,  knowing  what  we  know,  feeling 
what  we  feel,  we  can  afford  to  be  patient  and 
bid  Italy  go  on  her  way  rejoicing.  Apropos 
of  Garibaldi,  I  read  in  a  newspaper  the  other 
day,  "La  Guerra"  that  Major  Frecchi,  aide- 
de-camp  of  the  king,  had  gone  to  Caprera, 
to  transmit  to  Garibaldi  his  commission  of 
general  of  the  5th  corps  d'armee,  bearing  at 
the  same  time  a  letter  from  his  Majesty,  that 
moved  that  tender-hearted  hero  even  to  tears. 
It  seems  that  owing  either  to  the  sterility  of 
the  island  or  from  poverty  (the  latter  prob- 
ably). Garibaldi  had  been  obliged  to  sell  his 
battle-horse,  and  the  King  hearing  of  it, 
ordered  it  to  be  bought  at  any  price,  and  care- 
fully kept  in  the  royal  stables,  and  the  letter 
that  touched  Garibaldi  says  :  "  General,  when 
you  come  to  the  Continent  you  will  find  your 
horse  saddled  and  bridled  as  he  was  at  Varese 
and  Calatafime."    Last  week  Garibaldi's  great 

25 


friend  and  admirer,  Alexandre  Dumas,  was 
liere  on  his  way  to  join  him,  when  he  shall 
come  upon  the  Continent  to  take  command 
of  his  volunteers.  He  intends  following  his 
army  for  the  purpose  of  writing  a  history  of 
his  campaigns.  As  is  the  case  everywhere, 
the  charming  novelist  is  excessively  feted  in 
Florence,  and  a  few  evenings  since,  being  rec- 
ognized at  the  Theatre  Pagliano,  was  obliged 
to  endure  a  noisy  and  enthusiastic  ovation, 
that  stopped  the  performance  for  at  least  ten 
minutes.  All  sorts  of  amusing  stories  are 
told  about  him,  and  among  other  things  it  is 
said,  that  the  illustrious  writer  has,  like 
another  Alexander,  sighed  for  a  new  world  to 
conquer,  and  more  fortunate  than  his  prede- 
cessor, has  found  one.  His  last,  and  some 
say,  his  most  brilliant  conquest  is  the  kitchen. 
Alexandre  Dumas  has  turned  his  attention  to 
cooking,  and  it  is  doubtful  whether  his  fame 
as  poet  or  cook  will  longest  survive ;  at  all 
events  his  salad  a  la  Dumas  is  destined  to 
immortality,  but  one  should  not  partake  of  it, 
who  has  not  the  certainty  of  living  and  dying 

26 


with  its  author !  Once  and  once  only  tasted, 
hopeless  of  future  repetition  of  the  enjoy- 
ment, the  salad  a  la  Dumas,  becomes  an 
unsatisfied  longing,  a  tantalizing  dream,  a 
vain,  unsatisfied  aspiration  that  makes  the  rest 
of  life  a  blank.  "  Eat  often,  or  eat  never," 
should  be  inscribed  upon  the  fatal  dish.  His 
other  culinary  efforts  are,  I  am  told,  not  less 
marvelous,  and  last  week  at  Mme.  Batazzi's, 
the  wife  of  the  former  prime  minister,  he 
cooked  a  dinner  of  a  dozen  courses,  every  bit 
of  it  himself.  The  bill  of  fare  had  the  name 
of  the  illustrious  cook  upon  its  reverse,  and 
he  left  the  table  between  each  course,  to 
attend  to  the  proper  dishing  up  of  every  deli- 
cacy that  composed  it.  I  am  told  that  the 
result  was  perfection ;  and  his  friends  say, 
that  let  the  worst  come  to  the  worst,  the 
author  of  "  Monte  Cristo  "  has  only  to  set  up 
a  trattoria  to  redeem  or  make  a  fortune. 
Speaking  of  cooks,  reminds  me  to  tell  you, 
that  among  the  sufferers  by  the  prospective 
war,  the  cooks  of  Dresden  are  not  the  least  to 
be  pitied.      Saxony,    it    seems,  has    no    salt 

27 


mines,  and  obtains  that  commodity  from  Prus- 
sia by  a  treaty,  concluded  in  1828  and  renewed 
in  1864,  by  which  the  King  of  Prussia  agrees, 
for  a  certain  price,  to  furnish  sixteen  pounds 
of  salt  to  each  Saxon  stomach.  The  salt  is 
delivered  en  masse  to  the  Saxon  government, 
which  has  a  monopoly  of  the  sale.  As  soon 
then,  as  Baron  von  Beust's  refusal  to  disarm 
was  known,  the  commotion  in  the  lower 
regions  became  extreme,  the  different  bureaus 
for  salt  were  besieged  by  all  the  servants  in 
Dresden,  and  though  the  panic  was  soon 
calmed,  many  of  the  cooks  provisioned  them- 
selves for  at  the  least  an  eight  months'  siege, 
while  trusting  that  Congress  would  take  the 
matter  in  hand,  and  compel  Prussia  to  respect 
their  rights. 

June  2d. — La  Marmora's  departure  for  the 
conference  seems  certain,  consequently  that 
of  the  other  prime  ministers.  Garibaldi's 
arrival  is  expected  upon  the  Continent  about 
the  4th  or  5th  of  the  month.  Report  says 
that  he  is  impatient  to  leave  Caprera  and  has 
written  to  the  King  signifying  his  wishes. 

28 


Florence,  June  5,  1866. 

The  congress,  conference,  conversation — 
whatever  you  will — is  not  likely  to  meet. 
Not  because  Count  Bismarck  has  to  stay  in 
Berlin,  to  keep  King  William  up  to  the  mark, 
not  because  Prince  Gortschakoff  has  the  gout, 
not  on  account  of  Austria's  bad  faith  nor 
Italy's  disinclination — but  simply  because 
Louis  Napoleon  has  determined  that  it  shall 
not.  The  pipe  of  peace,  at  which  he  has  been 
puffing  away  for  the  last  four  weeks,  is  now 
about  to  be  broken  and  thrown  away.  It  has 
served  his  purpose  long  enough.  It  has 
filled  all  Europe  with  its  smoke,  and  dark- 
ened the  eyes  of  its  diplomatists,  while  the 
deadly  tomahawk  of  war,  that  is  to  be  hurled 
at  the  treaties  of  18 15,  is  being  sharpened  for 
the  conflict.  Yet  even  now,  while  its  lurid 
gleams  are  flashing  across  the  horizon,  the 
portent  is  misunderstood,  and  many,  per- 
versely or  wilfully  blind  to  the  events  they 
are  witnessing  with  their  own  eyes,  still 
believe  that  Napoleon  III.  wants  peace,  and  is 
39 


making  every  efiort  to  secure  it.  It  is  indeed 
the  common  opinion  that  the  change  in  public 
opinion  and  the  obstacle  to  an  amicable  "  con- 
versation "  and  peaceful  solution,  are  to  be 
found  in  the  susceptibility  of  Austria  to  a 
phrase,  a  phrase,  too,  that  accommodating 
diplomacy  has  already  modified  to  suit  its  fas- 
tidious scruples.  Austria  objected  to  the 
expression,  "question  Italienne,"  and  the 
more  elastic  one  of  "  difference  Italienne " 
was  substituted,  but  the  concession  of  twee- 
dledum for  tweedledee  was  not  enough,  and 
at  last,  she  has  spoken  out.  She  will  only 
accept  the  conference  on  condition  that  all  the 
powers  represented,  pledge  themselves  not  to 
require  a  modification  of  frontiers,  or  territo- 
rial aggrandizement ;  and  the  Diet,  adopting 
her  programme,  has  sanctioned  her  preten- 
sions by  declaring  that  the  question  of  Hol- 
stein  and  that  of  the  federal  reform  is  no 
concern  of  the  neutral  powers,  and  that  the 
Italian  question  also  is  the  affair  of  the  Ger- 
manic Confederation.  In  face  of  such  declar- 
ations what  would   a  Congress    find   to   do  ? 

30 


wliat  could  it  find  to  do  ?  Austria,  it  is  plain, 
does  not  believe  in  one,  and  the  delay  that  the 
project  imposed,  being  no  longer  necessary  to 
her  designs,  she  has  thrown  off  the  mask, 
while  sparing  Louis  Napoleon  the  necessity 
of  removing  his.  He  can  still  proclaim, 
thanks  to  this  hostile  and  involuntary  cat's- 
paw,  his  moderation  and  disinterestedness, 
and  the  war  may  now  with  propriety  begin ; 
'''' Les  convenances''''  have  been  respected.  So 
admirably  indeed,  has  he  played  his  part,  that 
even  at  the  last  supreme  moment  the  game  of 
negotiations  and  communications  has  been 
continued,  and  many  an  honest,  credulous 
soul  still  believes,  that  Gortschakoff  may  con- 
sent to  part  with  his  gout,  Bismarck  with  his 
ambition.  La  Marmora  with  his  patriotism. 
Napoleon  with  his  nature,  and  Aitstria  with 
Venetia ;  and  that  it  needs  but  a  friendly 
"  conversation  "  at  Paris  to  settle  everything 
to  the  satisfaction  of  everybody,  and  trans- 
form the  Garibaldian  red-shirts  into  comfort- 
able winter  petticoats.  They  don't  believe, 
not  they,  that  Burope  is  on  the  eve  of  a  uni- 

31 


versal  upsetting  and  overturning,  brought 
about  by  his  Imperial  Majesty,  Napoleon  III, 
for  the  purpose  of  strengthening  and  aggran- 
dizing France,  or  rather  himself  and  his 
dynasty,  at  the  expense  of  the  Universe,  if 
necessary.  Heaven  grant  that  Italy  and 
Russia  may  not  share  this  incredulity,  and 
that  they  may  have  the  wit  to  overreach  him, 
and  declining  his  aid  and  intervention,  suc- 
ceed in  localizing  a  war  that  otherwise  would 
be  universal.  The  news  of  the  day  is  that  an 
Austrian  decree  of  the  28th  has  proclaimed 
martial  law  in  Venetia,  Istria  and  the  South- 
ern Tyrol.  Another  of  the  30th  authorizes 
Gen.  Benedek  to  suspend  the  right  of  indi- 
vidual liberty  in  the  fortresses  under  his  com- 
mand, and  to  try  the  citizens  before  the 
military  tribunals.  These  tyrannical  meas- 
ures indicate  plainly  the  intentions  of  the 
Cabinet  at  Vienna,  and  would  be  even  more 
absurd  than  wicked  on  any  supposition  but 
that  of  war.  It  is  generally  thought  that  this 
state  of  suspense  cannot  be  prolonged  much 
beyond   the    15th,  when   Italy  will  probably 

32 


take  the  initiative  and  attack.  A  letter 
from  the  frontier  says :  "  We  are  within  half 
a  day's  march  of  the  Italian  territor}^,  occu- 
pied by  the  Austrians,  and  while  waiting  the 
result  of  the  Congress,  the  two  armies  increase 
their  ranks  every  day.  Parks  of  artillery  are 
formed,  the  soldiers  exercised  in  shooting  and 
marching,  and  every  preparation  is  being 
made  for  a  speedy  commencement  of  the  cam- 
paign." The  report  is  that  the  Generals  Pet- 
tinego  and  Angioletti,  one  the  Italian  War 
Minister,  the  other  the  Minister  of  the  Navy, 
will  leave  their  respective  portfolios,  and 
take,  each  of  them,  the  command  of  a  division 
of  the  army.  Menotti  Garibaldi  has  been 
appointed  Lieutenant  Colonel  of  the  Italian 
volunteers.  I  hear  that  a  part  of  the  corps 
d'armee  of  General  Cuchiari  has  passed  the 
Oglio,  though  his  headquarters  are  still  at 
Cremona,  and  that  Durando,  whose  headquar- 
ters are  at  Lodi,  has  traversed  the  Chiese. 
The  two  corps  have  not  yet  formed  a  junc- 
tion, though  near  enough  to  each  other  to 
close  the  passes  that  lead  from  Mantua  and 

33 


Peschiera  to  Lombardy.  The  projected  Con- 
gress has  given  time  for  the  fortifications  of 
Pola  and  Dalmatia  to  be  greatly  strength- 
ened. The  number  of  Venetian  emigrants, 
that  have  joined  the  volunteers,  is  about  3000. 
There  is  talk  of  a  5th  corps  d'armee  com- 
posed of  four  divisions.  According  to  the 
Journal  I'Europe,  General  Benedek  has  estab- 
lished a  printing  press  at  his  headquarters. 
Major  Junck,  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
military  writers,  has  the  direction  of  it,  and 
already  several  journalists  from  Vienna  and 
a  correspondent  of  the  Times,  have  been 
authorized  to  follow  his  staff. 


Florence,  July  11,  1866. 

To  see  sights  one  must  go  to  see  them,  and 
though  to  parody  Dr.  Johnson's  observations 
about  the  Hebrides,  many  are  worth  seeing, 
but  few  worth  going  to  see,  yet  duty  is  duty, 
and  having  promised  to  write  you  about  the 
Pitti  Gallery,  I  felt  obliged  to  start  for  that 


34 


place,  even  with  the  thermometer  at  90  in  the 
shade.  Such  being  the  case,  in  spite  of  my 
profound  conviction  of  what  was  due  to  a  free- 
born  American  woman,  I  felt  that  I  could 
hardly  expedl  a  visit  from  the  Madonna  della 
Seggiola^  or  a  friendly  morning  call  from  the 
Niobe  famil}^,  had  foreign  etiquette  even  per- 
mitted those  residents  to  pay  the  first  visit, 
and  so  resolving  magnanimously  to  waive  cer- 
emony, I  put  on  my  bonnet  preparatory  to  an 
expedition  to  the  Pitti  palace,  the  residence  of 
the  first  named  of  these  distinguished  females. 
It  was  near  noon  w^hen  I  started,  and  oh  !  how 
hot  it  was !  The  air  was  living,  glowing 
flame.  The  sunbeams  beat  down  upon  my 
devoted  head,  pierced  my  parasol,  penetrated 
my  bonnet,  and  darted  into  my  very  brain, 
melting  even  the  few  ideas  contained  in  it.  I 
felt  them  softening,  my  pet  ones,  my  most 
fondly  cherished,  my  woman's  rights  notions, 
and  negro  suffrage,  and  ere  long  they  lost 
their  rocky  consistency,  their  immovable 
steadfastness,  and  gradually  dissolved  into  a 
weak  solution  of  expediency  and  dastardly 
35 


compromise.  I  was  ready  to  sell  my  birth- 
right for  a  mess  of  pottage,  and  would  have 
sacrificed  on  the  instant  my  hopes  of  voting 
for  a  President  at  no  far  distant  day,  for  the 
poor  shelter  of  a  gourd.  Weak,  strong-minded 
woman  that  I  was  !  I  kept  on  my  way,  how- 
ever, ashamed  to  be  baffled  by  an  enemy  mil- 
lions of  miles  distant,  and  who  a  few  hours 
hence,  would  not  so  much  as  dare  to  show 
his  face,  and  crossing  the  piazza  almost  at  a 
run,  soon  found  myself  in  that  glorious  tem- 
ple of  art,  the  Pitti  Gallery.  Do  not  be 
alarmed  though,  I  am  not  going  to  inflict 
upon  you  a  description  of  its  treasures.  Too 
much  has  already  been  said  about  what  no 
description  can  describe,  no  copj?-  represent, 
no  heart  feel  by  the  echo  of  another's  beat- 
ings. Only,  if  it  indeed  be  true,  that  "  a 
thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  forever,"  then  the 
Pitti  Gallery  is  a  perennial  fountain  of  joy, 
for  its  beauties  are  inexhaustible.  I  wan- 
dered hours  and  hours  through  this  wilder- 
ness of  beauty,  and  if  I  only  ask  you  to  pause 
with  me  before  one,  or  at  the  most  two  of  its 

36 


celebrities,  I  shall  expect  that  lively  gratitude, 
felt  only  for  bores  mercifully  not  inflicted. 
I  might — remember,  I  might  if  I  pleased — 
hurl  Raphaels,  Titians,  Guidos,  Salvator 
Rosas,  and  Murillos  by  the  dozen  at  your 
devoted  head,  but  I  won't  please ;  so  pay 
attention,  while  I  onl}^  bestow  upon  you  a 
small,  a  very  small  piece  of  my  mind,  con- 
cerning two  Mary  Magdalens  that  particu- 
larly attracted  my  attention.  To  critics  more 
competent  I  leave  the  analysis  of  the  glorious 
coloring,  the  inimitable  grace,  the  harmony 
of  composition  of  the  one,  the  sublime  contri- 
tion, the  pathetic  feeling  that  characterize  the 
other,  and  limit  myself  simply  to  the  moral 
aspedl  of  these  world-famed  pidlures.  Ah, 
Mary  Magdalen — Mary  Magdalen  !  beautiful 
art  thou  in  thy  tears,  and  lovely  in  the  desola- 
tion that  a  Titian  and  a  Domenichino  have 
made  immortal ;  but  will  thy  tears  never  cease 
to  flow  ?  Shall  thy  nose  eternally  be  red  ?  and 
must  those  golden  tresses  forever  draggle 
about  thy  shoulders  ?  Will  the  world  never, 
like  thy  Saviour,  pardon  thee,  and  permit  thee 

37 


to  put  up  thj''  back-hair  in  a  comb,  and  do  it 
in  a  waterfall  as  other  decent  women  do?  I 
am  weary  and  indignant  at  the  woe-begone 
pose  these  old-time  painters  impose  upon 
thee.  The  sentiment  that  inspired  them  was 
false,  and  it  has  perpetuated  also  an  unchar- 
itable, unchristian  spirit.  Mary  Magdalen, 
repentant  and  forgiven,  should  take  her  place, 
not  shame-faced  and  apologetically  at  the 
feast  of  life,  but  partake  as  joyfully  of  the 
good  things  God  and  man  have  provided,  as 
Mary  Madonna  herself !  Yes,  'tis  time  that 
she  should  hold  up  her  head  in  the  world 
with  the  best,  aye,  the  very  best.  Are  not 
her  sins  forgiven,  and  angels  singing  halle- 
lujahs over  her  redemption  ?  and,  if  so,  if  she 
be  fit  company  for  the  celestial  hosts,  and 
would  be  received  with  open  arms  into  the 
courts  of  Heaven,  who  are  you,  pray,  that 
exclude  her  from  your  drawing-rooms,  and 
draw  up  your  white-washed  garments  as  she 
passes  by?  There,  I  have  said  it;  it  has 
long  been  on  my  mind,  and  I  advise  coming 
Titians  and  coming  Domenichinos,  especially 

38 


if  Americans,  to  adopt  the  bright  idea.  Let 
their  immortal  Mary  Magdalens  be  clothed  in 
purple  and  fine  linen, — let  her  wear  a  cash- 
mere upon  her  shoulders,  and  a  tiara  of 
diamonds  upon  her  brow,  they  will  not  mis- 
become her,  nor  by  any  means  be  misplaced. 
Filled  with  such  reflections,  I  left  the  Pitti 
Palace,  and  strolling  through  the  Via  Guic- 
ciardini,  entered  upon  the  Ponte  Vecchio.  I 
generally  avoid  that  famous  bridge,  for  like  a 
true  w^oman  that  I  am,  I  dearly  love  jewelry, 
and  the  sight  of  all  the  beautiful  and  unat- 
tainable things  that  beset  one  on  both  sides, 
has  made  it  for  many  a  long  year,  a  very 
"  bridge  of  sighs  "  to  me.  I  crossed  it  there- 
fore quickly,  trying  not  to  look  about  me,  and 
was  only  once  beguiled  into  stopping  before 
the  loveliest,  oh  the  loveliest  cross  of  ame- 
thysts and  diamonds  that  eyes  ever  beheld! 
a  cross  fit  to  be  set  in  the  firmament,  among 
the  stars,  for  the  conversion  of  an  empress. 
My  eyes  watered  as  I  looked  upon  it,  and  I 
was  silly  enough  to  enter  and  ask  the  price, 
though   I  knew  it  was  about  as  unattainable 


39 


to  me  as  the  stars  it  rivalled.  "  Venti-cmque 
mila  franchi^  SignoraP  Five  thousand  dol- 
lars !  07ily  that,  and  to  say  that  there  are 
women  who  could  buy  that  beautiful  gem  as 
easily  as  I  could  a  pair  of  gloves !  Oime ! 
well  I  suppose  that  they  do,  even  those  same 
happy  women,  have  their  cross  to  bear. 

Feeling  almost  insulted  by  the  shopman,  I 
left  his  shop,  and  this  time  did  walk  straight 
on,  looking  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the 
left,  until  I  came  upon  the  Lung  'Arno, 
where  to  my  surprise,  I  observed  that  the 
windows  upon  the  river  and  those  along  the 
length  of  the  Mercato  Nuovo,  were  being  rap- 
idly draped  with  the  national  colors,  while 
the  national  flag  was  being  hoisted  in  every 
direction.  ''  What  is  the  matter,  what  has 
happened?"  said  I  to  a  young  lad  who  had 
just  been  engaged  in  the  latter  operation,  "is 
there  any  good  news  ?  "  "  Good  news,  indeed, 
I  should  think  so — Garibaldi  has  driven  the 
Austrians  out  of  Lodrone.  Viva  Garibaldi  !  " 
and  before  I  could  ask  for  particulars,  he  was 
out  of  sight.     I  had  only,  however,  to  go  to 

40 


the  next  corner,  as  far  as  the  palace  of  the 
Municipality,  to  have  the  good  tidings  con- 
firmed. A  telegram,  posted  upon  the  walls, 
informed  me,  not  only  that  the  volunteers  had 
entered  Lodrone,  and  driven  the  Austrians  at 
the  point  of  the  bayonet  across  the  Dazio,  but 
also  that  Cialdini's  corps  d'armee  the  4th, 
had  crossed  the  Po,  and  compelled  them  to 
evacuate  Rovigo,  which  they  did  after  blow- 
ing up  the  fortifications  that  protected  the 
city,  burning  the  bridges  and  spiking  the 
guns.  Well  might  the  boy  shout,  "  Viva 
Garibaldi !  "  without  waiting  to  answer  my 
questions.  He  might,  too,  have  added,  "  Viva 
il  Re,"  and  "  Viva  Cialdini,"  but  he  did  not ! 
Those  names  don't  seem  to  come  so  naturally 
to  the  popular  mouth,  and  let  who  will  win 
the  battles,  the  red-shirted  hero  is  sure  to  reap 
all  the  laurels. 


41 


Florence,  August  24,  1866. 

The  paramount  interest  for  the  moment, 
even  in  Florence,  is  the  state  of  the  Emperor 
Napoleon's  health,  some  hoping,  some  fear- 
ing, a  fatal  termination  to  the  malad}^  from 
which  he  is  suffering.  It  is  said  that  he  is 
far  more  seriously  indisposed  than  the  French 
journals  are  willing  to  allow,  that  his  spine 
is  fatally  diseased,  and  his  mind  in  conse- 
quence so  weakened,  that  from  one  day  to 
another  his  policy  cannot  be  predicated  by 
those  most  conversant  with  his  designs  and 
wishes.  In  the  meantime  he  makes  every 
effort  to  hide  his  situation  and  keep  up  appear- 
ances. A  few  days  since  he  paid  a  visit  to  the 
Empress  Charlotte  at  the  Grand  Hotel,  where 
he  remained  about  an  hour.  He  ascended  the 
stairs  with  difficulty,  holding  with  one  hand 
firmly  on  to  the  banisters,  and  resting  heavily 
with  the  other  upon  an  ivory-headed  cane, 
and  a  person  who  met  him  as  he  was  going 
up,  said  that  he  looked  ten  years  older  than 
he   did   two  months  ago.     Returning  to  St. 

42 


Cloud,  he  got  out  of  his  caleche  and  walked 
a  few  steps  in  the  avenue  of  the  Champs 
Klysees,  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  but  for  all 
that,  the  French  correspondent,  from  whom  I 
learned  these  details,  said  it  was  impossible 
to  look  upon  his  face  and  not  perceive  the 
ravages  of  deep-seated  disease.  Report  says 
that  in  his  interview  with  the  Empress,  Napo- 
leon gave  her  clearly  to  understand,  that 
France  had  done  all  that  was  possible  for 
Mexico,  and  was  unwilling  to  make  further 
sacrifices  in  her  behalf,  though  possibly  some 
understanding  might  be  come  to  with  regard 
to  the  last  loans — the  plan  proposed  being 
that  of  converting  Mexican  debts  into  French 
rentes;  all  of  which,  of  course,  means  a 
renunciation  of  his  proje6l  of  a  Latin  Empire 
on  our  continent,  and  a  grand  political  fiasco 
for  this  man  of  colossal  abortions.  Whether 
or  not  he  will  be  more  fortunate  in  obtaining 
the  compensation  that  he  demands,  for  gra- 
ciously acquiescing  in  triumphs  he  could  not 
prevent,  is  uncertain,  though  probable ;  at  all 
events  the   compensation    is    stoutly  insisted 

43 


upon,  though  from  a  note  in  the  Moniteur  of 
the  2ist,  it  is  not  to  be  taken  from  the  neutral 
states,  and  Belgium  consequently  escapes, 
while  the  question  of  the  Rhine  remains 
unsettled.  In  the  meantime  while  all  the 
world  at  Paris  talks  of  peace,  the  eventual- 
ities of  war  are  not  negledled,  and  the  most 
intense  activity  is  displayed  in  the  fabrication 
of  a  new  kind  of  cannon,  to  which  an  extreme 
importance  is  attached,  and  so  fearful  is  the 
war  department  of  the  secret  of  its  invention 
being  known,  that  a  foundry  has  been  estab- 
lished for  the  express  purpose  of  their  con- 
stru(5lion  in  the  haras  of  Meiidon^  each  work- 
man having  his  own  specialty,  and  the  work- 
men of  the  various  parts  being  forbidden  all 
communication  among  themselves.  These 
rumors  and  other  similar  ones  from  the  capi- 
tal of  France,  keep  the  Italians  naturally  in  a 
state  of  disquiet  and  ferment,  for  whether  it  is 
true  or  not  that  when  Napoleon  III.  stamps 
the  earth,  all  Europe  shakes,  certain  it  is  that 
Ital^^  still  trembles  in  her  boot  when  the 
Imperial  foot  comes  down,  and  as  most  of  the 

44 


officers  in  the  Italian  army  are  boiling  with 
rage  at  the  armistice,  and  indignant  at  the 
bare  mention  of  peace,  they  rejoice  at  any- 
thing that  promises  a  renewal  of  war,  by 
which,  what  they  fancy  their  lost  honor,  may 
be  retrieved.  On  the  contrary  the  Italian 
people  are  now  pretty  well  reconciled  to 
accomplished  facts,  and  desire  that  the  peace, 
since  they  must  have  it,  may  no  longer  be 
deferred.  In  the  meanwhile  the  absence  of 
their  morning  drachm  of  war  news  is  sensibly 
felt  by  the  excitement-loving  Florentines,  and 
were  it  not  for  the  Pagliano  theatre  and 
Ciniselli's  equestrian  troupe,  and  one  or  two 
other  minor  open-air  theatres,  I  don't  know 
how  they  would  manage  to  get  rid  of  the 
ennui  occasioned  by  the  sudden  reaction  of 
their  overwrought  sensibility. 

Pagliano  draws  crowded  houses  every  even- 
ing to  hear  Don  Giovanni^  and  the  fact  that 
a  tenth  part  of  the  net  profits  is  given  to  the 
fund  for  the  wounded  in  the  war,  heightens 
undoubtedly,  its  attractions.  The  perform- 
ance itself  is  respedlable,  nothing  more,  with 

45 


the  exception  of  the  baritone  Stella.  He  is 
charming,  to  the  last  degree,  and  it  is  a  pity 
that  he  should  not  be  better  sustained.  Such 
as  it  is,  however,  we  must  accept  it  until 
the  opening  of  the  Pergola,  which  will  not 
be  before  Autumn,  when  we  are  promised 
L? Africaine .  Of  course,  nous  mitres^  such  of 
us  as  still  find  ourselves  in  Florence,  suffer  ex- 
tremely from  such  a  bourgeois  state  of  things, 
for  of  course  you  know  that  the  Pagliano 
theatre  is  essentially  that  of  the  respect- 
able middle  classes,  and  our  dele(5lation  can 
only  properly  be  taken  in  "  the  season  "  and 
at  fashionable  resorts,  though  I  have  been 
assured,  that  if  we  could  condescend  to  breathe 
an  atmosphere  tempered  by  vulgar  joys  and 
respired  by  common  lungs,  we  should  find  it 
not  unwholesome  after  all,  and  possibly  that 
it  resembled,  in  all  important  respe(5ls,  the 
higher  if  not  the  purer  element  that  expands 
our  own  patrician  hearts  ;  for  certain  it  is 
that  the  people  who  throng  the  streets  of,  to 
us,  deserted  Florence,  seem  to  have  some 
objedl   in   living,    and   to   find   existence   an 

46 


agreeable  condition,  and  what  it  may  be,  and 
why  it  is  so,  would,  perhaps,  be  worth  our 
investigation. 

Victor  Emmanuel  is  still  at  Padua,  making 
excursions  into  various  other  parts  of  his  new 
dominions,  and  enduring  with  commendable 
resignation  a  popularity  that  increases  with 
every  day  of  his  stay.  The  theatres  have 
been  reopened  the  first  time  for  years  in  honor 
of  his  visit,  and  when  he  shows  himself  at 
one  of  them,  the  applause  is  enough  to  drive 
one  frantic.  Flowers  are  flung  at  him,  pocket- 
handkerchiefs  waved,  tears  shed,  with  evvivas 
that  storm  the  heavens.  The  boxes  are  gay 
with  the  national  colors ;  the  women  wear 
them  in  their  hair,  on  their  dresses,  every- 
where where  a  bow  or  a  loop  or  a  streamer  is 
possible,  and  those  who  pretend  to  look  below 
the  surface  of  things  say,  that  their  patriotism 
is  by  no  means  limited  to  outward  show,  but 
that  garters  and  still  more  unspeakable  arti- 
cles, are  adorned  with  the  irresistible  red, 
white  and  green.  Then  there  are  all  sorts  of 
races :     Dei  Sedioli^    chariot    races,    steeple- 

47 


chases  in  his  honor,  and  in  the  evening  the 
race  course,  il  Prato  della  Valle^  is  illuminated 
with  eledlrical  lights.  Such  times,  in  short, 
never  were  seen  in  Padua  before,  and  our  sim- 
ple, soldierly  king,  who  hates  show  and  noise 
and  the  hurrahs  of  popularity  more  than  any 
man  living,  has  to  put  a  good  face  upon  the 
matter,  and  bear  as  best  he  can,  the  fuss  they 
make  about  him.  After  all  'tis  not  paying 
very  dear  for  his  fine  new  whistle. 


Florence,  August  30,  1866. 

Apropos  to  music,  I  went  Saturday  to  the 
last  representation  of  "  Don  Giovanni  "  at  the 
Pagliano,  and  came  away  more  than  ever  con- 
vinced that  to  the  real  lover  of  music  words 
are  an  abomination.  It  is  like  tying  leaden 
weights  to  a  skylark's  wings  and  bidding  it 
soar  to  the  heavens.  The  opera,  as  I  have 
said  elsewhere,  was  well  enough,  and  the 
roles  throughout  respectably  sustained ;  but 
thus  to  pretend  to  interpret  Mozart's  genius 

48 


is  simply  a  profanation.  Music  is  the  speech 
of  the  gods,  and  with  them  only  can  we  hold 
converse  in  it.  Consequently  to  me  an 
escape  from  words  is  indispensable  to  my 
enjoyment  of  it.  An  escape  luckily  easily 
accomplished,  thanks  to  harmonious  necessi- 
ties, that  make  of  every  Italian  opera  only  a 
succession  of  musical  vowels,  whose  connec- 
tion with  the  vitalizing  consonants  is  too 
slight  to  trammel  the  imagination.  So  I  shut 
my  eyes  and  was  soon  soaring  far  above  Don 
Giovanni,  Donna  Anna,  Zerlina  and  the  rest, 
when  an  importunate  friend  at  my  side,  sud- 
denly arrested  my  flight  and  brought  me 
down  to  earth  again.  Poor  fellow,  he  was 
dreadfully  tired  of  the  "  Grande  juusique^''  as 
it  is  called,  and  a  little  before  had  availed 
himself  of  that  freedom,  which  we  women 
shall  have  one  day,  when  Mr.  John  Stuart 
Mill  shall  have  his  way,  to  take  his  hat  and 
stroll  into  the  street  and  into  Santa  Croce, 
where  he  had  found  amusement  far  more  to 
his  taste  than  the — well,  he  didn't  call  it 
Grande   mustque ;  he  whispered,  too,  in    my 

49 


ear,  just  as  Don  Giovanni  was  making  his 
exit  in  tlie  flaming,  fiery  vortex,  that  he  had 
bought  such  a  beauty  of  a  cocomero  (water- 
melon), which  he  hoped  I  would  allow  him 
to  eat  and  drink  with  us  when  we  reached 
home.  I  nodded  assent,  and  the  announce- 
ment came  just  in  time  to  reconcile  two 
enthusiastic  young  girls  who  were  with  me, 
to  the  end  of  the  performance — that  they  were 
regretting  had  an  end — and  which  they  said 
they  would  gladly  sit  up  all  night  to  see  over 
again  !     Ah  seventeen  !  sweet  seventeen  ! 

Speaking  of  watermelons,  that  refreshing 
fruit  or  vegetable  is  just  now  in  its  perfedlion 
here,  and  our  streets  are  literally  gay,  as  with 
a  tapestry,  with  their  rich,  red  hemispheres, 
exposed  in  the  evening  on  temporary  stands, 
each  of  which,  with  its  lights  and  its  eager, 
good-natured  crowd  clustered  about  it,  is  as 
pleasant  a  spectacle  as  one  would  wish  to 
see,  and  one  I  always  long  to  make  part  of. 
The  cocomero  at  such  times  is  the  sherbet,  the 
ice-cream  of  the  poorer  classes,  but  in  the 
morning  a  slice  of  it,  with  a  bit  of  bread,  is 

50 


often  the  only  breakfast  of  many  a  sturdy 
laborer,  wlio  works  none  the  less  vigorously 
for  his  light  repast.  But  the  poor  people  are 
not  the  only  ones  who  eat  cocomeros  ;  a  dandy 
^'' pur  sang''^  is  occasionally  seen  at  one  of 
these  improvised  counters,  and  a  lovely  lady 
was  once  known  to  descend  from  her  carriage 
and  ate  one  or  two  slices,  taking  them  in  her 
own  lily  fingers,  and  standing  at  the  table 
with  the  others,  just  as  if  she  had  been  noth- 
ing grander  or  better  than  the  poorest  little 
*'  modista "  (milliner)  who  looked  on  in 
amazement  at  the  condescension.  But  to 
return  to  ourselves,  and  how  w^e  eat  our  coco- 
mero  ;  and  en  passant^  I  will  just  observe  that 
cocomero^  no  matter  how  eaten,  should  only  be 
partaken  of  with  intimate  friends,  who  are  at 
the  same  time  gens  d^  esprit^  snobs  and  fools 
always  and  everywhere  to  be  excluded  from 
the  feast ;  and  the  persons  of  our  party  fulfill- 
ing perfe6lly  the  indispensable  conditions,  we 
set  to  work  to  enjoy  ourselves.  The  melon 
was  perfedlion,  exceeding  expectation  even, 
and  though  eaten  as  it  always  must  be  under 

51 


difficulties — only  a  pig  can  unconcernedly 
overcome  swinish  example — it  did  not  deter 
us  from  a  thorough,  and  consequently  prim- 
itive enjoyment  of  it.  We  cut  the  melon  in 
halves,  and  having  decided  to  free  ourselves 
from  the  proprieties  of  knives  and  forks  (we 
did  have  napkins),  and  each  being  provided 
with  a  great  circular  morsel,  instead  of  the 
more  equitable  conical  slice — the  fashion  here, 
we  betook  ourselves  to  a  balcony  overlooking 
a  garden,  and  there,  leaning  over  the  parapet, 
reckless  of  the  dripping  juice,  our  mouths 
literally  overflowing  with  enjoyment,  w^e  ate 
to  the  last  mouthful  our  watermelon,  and  so 
should  watermelons  be  eaten  ! 

One  thing  leading  to  another,  cocoinero 
leads  me  to  cholera,  which  some  say  we  shall 
have  here  in  spite  of  the  advanced  season.  It 
has  been  for  some  time  at  Genoa,  and  I  learn 
from  the  papers  that  its  ordinary  dangers  are 
greatly  increased  by  the  opposition  of  the 
populace  to  the  measures  taken  by  the  munic- 
ipality for  the  public  safety.  They  resist  and 
resent   every    effort   to    purify  and    ventilate 

52 


tHeir  houses,  and  the  most  natural  and  simple 
precautions  are  negleAed.  As  for  the  phy- 
sicians, provided  for  them  at  the  public 
expense,  they  look  upon  them  with  horror, 
and  it  is  dangerous  for  them  even  to  walk  the 

streets.     About  a  week  since  Dr.  C ,  on 

his  way  to  visit  a  patient,  excited  a  veritable 
tumult.  "  Give  it  to  him  !  give  it  to  him," 
was  cried  out  from  the  infuriated  crowd. 
"  He  is  one  of  the  doctors  paid  by  the  munic- 
ipality to  poison  the  poor  people,"  and  had  not 
the  carabineers  interfered  for  his  protection, 
he  would  have  been  torn  in  pieces.  Poor, 
misguided  creatures,  they  have  had  so  much 
to  suffer  from  those  above  them,  that  they 
fancy  all  their  ills  must  proceed  from  the 
same  source.  I  remember  a  similar  state  of 
things  during  the  cholera  season  of  1854.  I 
was  at  Via  Reggio  when  it  broke  out  there. 
The  fashionable  season  was  at  its  height 
when  it  made  its  appearance,  and  in  a  twink- 
ling, as  it  were,  the  place  was  depopulated. 
All  who  had  the  means  left  the  place  at  once, 
the  visitors,  most  of  them  Italians  from  Lucca, 
53 


making  the  greatest  haste.  A  carriage,  a 
cart,  a  baroccino  (wagon),  could  not  be  got 
for  love  or  money  in  two  days  time  after  the 
fatal  fa(5l  was  known,  and  the  poor  people 
streamed  off  to  the  mountains  with  their  beds 
upon  their  backs.  I  determined  not  to  leave, 
I  hadn't  a  particle  of  fear,  my  children's 
vacation  had  yet  a  month  to  run,  and  they 
entreated  me  not  to  take  them  back  to  Flor- 
ence ;  so  in  spite  of  the  remonstrances  of 
friends,  I  persisted  in  my  resolution.  Physi- 
cians were  sent  to  Via  Reggio  from  Florence 
to  attend  upon  the  inhabitants  gratis,  but,  as 
in  Genoa  now,  they  would  have  nothing  to  do 
with  them,  and  though  one  of  them,  poor  fel- 
low, soon  himself  fell  a  vi6lim  to  the  disease, 
they  persisted  in  their  inveterate  distrust. 
They  seriously  believed  that  the  Grand  Duke 
had  sent  them  there  to  poison  the  people. 
My  children  and  myself  continued  in  the 
meantime  our  usual  way  of  living,  taking  our 
daily  baths,  and  only  varying  our  regime  by 
eating  rather  more  fruit  than  usual ;  we  lived 
upon  peaches  that  cholera  summer,  they  were 

54 


abundant  and  naturally  very  cheap,  as  no  one 
but  ourselves  in  the  place  touched  them.  At 
first,  I  think  we  were  rather  popular  with  the 
villagers,  they  liked  our  courage  in  staying, 
and  were  amused  at  our  audacity  in  eating 
the  forbidden  fruit.  Suddenly,  however,  all 
this  changed,  the  women  began  to  turn  their 
backs  upon  us  when  we  met  them,  and  the 
men,  as  they  went  by  us,  scowled  and  muttered 
"  Sty  eg  he  I  streghe  /  "  ("  witches  !  witches.") 
"  They  are  the  ones  that  do  us  the  mischief, 
meglio  che  sene  vadano^^  ("  you'd  better  take 
yourselves  off")  which  we  very  speedily  did, 
especially  as  the  police  advised  us  to  do  so, 
saying  they  had  not  force  enough  to  protedl 
us  in  case  of  a  popular  tumult.  The  people 
had  got  it  into  their  heads,  that  persons  who 
ate  so  many  peaches  unharmed,  in  the  midst 
of  the  cholera,  must  be  in  some  way  uncanny. 
Florence  is  getting  grander  and  finer  and 
more  beautiful  every  day.  We  have  got  the 
most  exquisite  bronze  lamps  in  the  Piazza 
dell  a  Signoria  that  ever  were  seen,  worthy  of 
Benvenuto    himself,  and   the    new  post-of&ce 

55 


wHich  is  to  be  opened  on  the  first  of  Septem- 
ber, is  about  to  forsake  its  old  time-honored 
Pisan  roof  for  a  still  more  distinguished 
localit}^  under  the  galleries  of  the  Uf&zi. 
There  is  no  end  to  the  money  that  has  been 
spent  upon  it,  and  as  in  this  part  of  the  world 
taste  is  the  usual  auxiliary  of  gold,  the  new- 
post-office  will  by  no  means  misbecome  its 
illustrious  neighborhood.  I've  no  time  to 
describe  it  here,  only  it  is  as  gorgeously  mag- 
nificent as  marble,  gilding  and  glass  can 
make  it.  Such  a  post-office  should  only  be 
the  medium  of  the  most  delightful  communi- 
cations, it  is  too  charming  for  almost  any- 
thing but  a  love-letter,  and  if  I  were  the  king, 
I  would  make  a  law  forthwith,  prohibiting 
duns  and  bores  and  disagreeables  of  all  sorts 
from  sending  their  missives  through  it.  A 
new  group  of  statuary  the  Ratto  di  Polissena 
by  Fedi  is  soon  to  be  put  up  in  the  Loggia  di 
Orgagna ;  in  short  the  old  piazza  seems  pre- 
paring to  welcome  fittingly  her  newly  domes- 
ticated guest  "  Liberty,"  which  it  is  to  be 
hoped  will  soon  feel  herself  at  home  there. 

56 


The  Niccolini  opens  Saturday  evening  with 
a  French  company  under  the  direction  of  Mon- 
sieur Eugene  Meynadier.  Monsieur  Meyna- 
dier  has  engaged  a  pupil  of  the  Consen^atory 
of  Paris  for  the  principal  role^  Mademoiselle 
Kstelle  Juillet,  who  got  the  great  prize  for 
tragedy  last  year.  The  theatrical  world  are 
all  on  the  alert  to  see  this  new  star.  The 
other  artists  are  already  well  and  favorably 
known  here.  The  other  theatres  are  also 
beginning  to  open  their  doors  to  the  public, 
and  nous  aiitres  will  soon  be  here  to  give  a  zest 
to  pleasures  that  otherwise  would  be  ennui. 


Florence,  September  15,  1866. 

Florence  is  waking  up  from  her  midsum- 
mer doze  and  preparing  to  welcome  back  her 
runaways,  and  as  the  weather  is  unusually 
cool  everywhere  this  season,  it  is  probable 
that  lake,  land,  and  seashore,  mountain  fast- 
ness and  valley  will  earlier  than  usual  yield 
up  their  pilgrims.  Florence  is  going  to  be 
57 


"  awfully  "  gay  this  coming  winter,  and  I,  for 
one,  am  sorry  for  it.  I  like  Florence  as  she 
was^  with  a  fashion  and  gaiety  of  her  own, 
smacking  of  her  mediaeval  dignity  and  tradi- 
tions, and  think  she  loses  immensely  by 
putting  on  the  airs  of  a  modern  capital. 
Improvement  and  progress  do  not  harmonize 
wdth  Florence,  and  would  do  well  to  go  else- 
where with  their  benefits.  Conservatism  is 
in  the  very  air  we  breathe  here — the  stones  of 
her  palaces  preach  it,  her  churches  command 
it,  her  people  instin6lively  cling  to  it,  and  so 
majestic  and  imposing  is  her  aspe6l  even  now, 
that  the  genius  of  go-aheadism  incarnate 
would  be  awed  into  letting  alone,  and  would 
never  dare  propose  a  railway  through  her 
streets  !  Nevertheless,  and  alas  !  worse  things 
than  even  those  are,  I  fear,  in  store  for  her, 
for  are  not  her  monks  unfrocked,  her  peas- 
ants uncostumed,  her  patricians  elsewhere 
than  at  the  feet  of  beauty,  and  worse  than  all, 
is  not  the  schoolmaster,  on  the  w4ngs  of  the 
wand,  abroad  ?  and  can  fortress  or  town,  pal- 
ace or  church  stay  him  ?     All,  however,  is  not 

58 


yet  lost,  and  many  signs  indicate  that  the 
good  old  times,  if  past  and  gone,  are  suscept- 
ible of  revival,  none  more  so  than  the  atti- 
tude of  the  Genoese  people  at  this  moment  in 
face  of  the  cholera.  That  pestilence  still  con- 
tinues its  ravages  at  Genoa,  and  every  day 
accounts  reach  us  of  alarming  excesses  com- 
mitted by  the  superstitious  populace,  whose 
ferocity  seems  to  increase  with  every  new  out- 
break of  the  disease.  Every  one  who  has  the 
slightest  conne6lion  with  the  municipality  is 
the  obje6l  of  special  distrust.  A  few  days 
since  a  messenger  of  that  body  was  returning 
home,  carrying  a  loaf  of  bread  done  up  in 
paper  to  his  family.  His  package  excited 
suspicion — it  probably  contained  poison — and 
he  was  soon  surrounded  by  a  furious  crowd, 
vociferating  at  the  top  of  their  voices,  "  Down 
with  him !  down  with  him !  he  has  poison ! 
kill  him !  kill  him !  "  Luckily  for  him  he 
had  only  to  open  his  bundle  and  show  the 
contents,  to  dispel  their  suspicions ;  the  bread 
fell  into  the  street  and  their  fury  was  appeased. 
Another  time,  a  woman  having  occasion  to  go 

59 


to  the  Maison  de  Ville  overheard  the  Syndic 
and  a  physician  discussing  different  methods 
of  employing  chloride  of  lime,  and  suppos- 
ing of  course  that  they  were  concerting  their 
plans  for  the  destru6lion  of  the  ^''povera  gente  " 
she  rushed  into  the  street  and  imparted  her 
discoveries  and  conjedlures  to  the  people. 
An  assemblage  soon  gathered  about  her,  and 
in  less  than  no  time  assumed  the  chara6ler  of 
a  formidable  disturbance,  accompanied  by  fear- 
ful threats  and  imprecations  against  the  pre- 
tended manipulators  of  the  poison.  The 
Syndic  tried  in  vain  to  reason  with  them,  and 
finding  the  tumult  increase  and  threatening 
to  become  dangerous,  sent  for  the  carabineers 
who  arrested  the  woman  and  finally  put  an 
end  to  the  agitation.  A  day  rarely  passes 
without  similar  scenes  in  that  devoted  city, 
and  the  cases  of  cholera  do  not  diminish. 
The  nurses  in  the  hospitals  are  accused  of 
administering  the  "  acquetta^^''  Catherine  de' 
Medici's  favorite  poison,  to  the  patients, 
which  accommodating  physicians  and  apoth- 
ecaries prepare  for  them.     Bven  the  washer- 

60 


women,  employed  in  disinfedling  the  clothes 
of  choleric  patients,  and   the    grave  diggers 
who  bury  them,  are  obliged  to  be  protected  in 
the  performance  of  their  duties  by  the  mili- 
tary.     As  I  said  before,  the  poor  unfortunate 
members  of  the  municipality  are  looked  upon, 
however,  as  the  original  conspirators  against 
the  life  and  health  of  the  people.     They  are 
called  "6^«/<9r/,"  and  are  supposed  to  be  at  the 
bottom  of  all  the  mischief  and  to  know  pre- 
cisely the  day  and  hour  when  the  pestilence 
will  break  out.     Those  who  have  read  Man- 
zoni's  ^''Promessz  SposP^  cannot  fail  to  recall 
descriptions    of    similar   scenes    during    the 
plague  of  1630  at  Milan,  and  that  then,  as 
now,  the  epithet  ^''Untori^^  that  is,  literally, 
"  greasers,"  was    applied  with    equal   justice 
and  propriety.     It  was  the  common  belief,  at 
that   time  of  insane  and    horrible    fear,  that 
enemies  of  the  people,  that  is  all  who  were 
not  themselves  people,   went  about  the  city 
with  vases  of  un6luous  poison,  composed  of 
wasps,    toads,    serpents'    saliva,    and    half  a 
dozen  other  ingredients  more  absurd  and  dis- 

61 


gusting  still,  with  wHicli  they  greased  the 
walls  of  the  city,  the  portals  of  the  churches, 
the  doors  and  knockers  of  houses,  every  place 
in  short  with  which  the  public  was  most  likely 
to  come  in  contadl,  in  the  amiable  and  philan- 
thropic intention  of  destroying  as  many  of 
their  fellow  creatures  as  possible.  And  who- 
ever dared  to  hint  a  doubt  of  the  reality  of 
these  atrocious  intentions,  was  looked  upon  as 
an  accomplice  of  the  conspirators  and  had  to 
take  the  consequences.  You  perceive  that 
the  good  old  times  have  a  very  strong  family 
resemblance  with  the  good  new  ones,  and  that 
the  schoolmaster  is  not  going  to  have  a  very 
lazy  time  of  it  after  all. 

I  think  I  mentioned  in  a  former  letter  an 
extraordinary  outbreak  of  the  cholera  in  a 
conventual  establishment  for  the  education  of 
young  girls  at  Torre  Annunziata,  that  carried 
ofi  twenty-eight  or  twenty-nine  of  their  num- 
ber in  about  forty-eight  hours,  and  was  simul- 
taneous with  the  reappearance  of  the  disease 
in  the  city  of  Naples.  The  suddenness  and 
number  of  the  deaths  excited  a  great  deal  of 

62 


comment  and  conje(9:ure  at  the  time,  and 
why  the  matter  was  not  properly  looked  into 
then,  no  one  knows.  It  was  not,  however. 
But  a  recent  development  of  the  malady  has 
at  last  induced  the  authorities  to  order  an 
examination  of  the  premises,  the  result  of 
which  has  proved  that  the  btton  Padi^e  Ludo- 
vico  was  in  the  habit  of  burying  all  persons 
who  died  in  the  establishment,  in  the  grounds 
belonging  to  the  building,  often,  indeed, 
without  taking  the  trouble  of  announcing 
their  decease  at  the  office  of  the  Stato  Civile. 
Six  bodies  had  quite  recently  been  interred, 
and  their  graves  were  found  close  to  a  cistern, 
the  water  of  which  was  said  to  be  only  used 
for  washing.  Two  coffins  were  also  discov- 
ered in  the  convent  itself,  containing  two 
skeletons,  destined  to  be  sent  to  Rome  for 
beatification — so  the  padre  asserted — and  the 
story  of  these  two  blessed,  or  rather  to  be 
blessed  skeletons,  forms  an  odd  episode  to  all 
this  tissue  of  absurdities  and  horrors.  It 
seems  that  last  year  Padre  Ludovico  was  com- 
missioned by  the  authorities  at  Rome  to  seek 


63 


for  the  body  of  a  monk,  who  died  about  a  cen- 
tur}?-  since,  in  the  odor  of  san(5lity,  and  was 
buried  in  the  church  of  Santa  Maria  degli 
Angioli.  The  holy  father,  as  you  may  sup- 
pose, lost  no  time  in  undertaking  the  flatter- 
ing commission.  To  hunt  up  even  a  saint's 
bones  was  no  mean  honor,  and  only  san6lified 
flesh  and  blood  could  be  allowed  the  privilege. 
Consequently,  imagine  his  joy,  his  exultation, 
when,  instead  of  one  saint's  body  he  found 
three  !  Yes,  adlually  three  !  By  what  signs 
he  distinguished  them  I  do  not  know,  but 
probably  from  the  "  odor  of  san6lity  "  being  a 
material  fa6l,  and  not,  as  is  generall}^  sup- 
posed, a  figure  of  speech — in  which  case,  of 
course,  there  could  be  no  difiiculty,  especially 
as  2.  padre's  nose  is  proverbially  a  pretty  long 
one.  However  that  may  be,  there  they  were 
— three  saints,  ready  for  canonization,  one  of 
whom  was  instantly  forwarded  to  Rome,  while 
the  other  two  bided  their  time  in  the  Convent 
of  the  Stimmattine — where,  alas,  they  have 
just  been  exposed  to  the  profane  gaze  and 
comments  of  the  vulgar.     Heartbreaking  as 

64 


it  is  to  relate,  Padre  Ludovico^  tlie  pious  dis- 
coverer of  dead  saints'  bones — the  intelligent, 
generous  and  prudent  head  of  an  educational 
establishment  for  young  ladies,  has  been 
arrested  ;  and  contrary  to  what  would  have 
probably  happened  in  the  good  old  times,  will 
be  severely  fined,  if  not  otherwise  punished, 
for  his  culpable  negledl  of  the  common  pre- 
cautions of  hygienic  laws.  I  forgot  to  add 
that  in  his  defence  Padre  Ludovico  said  that 
he  was  authorized  by  the  former  government 
to  bury  his  dead  within  the  convent  walls. 
Another  proof,  if  one  were  needed,  of  the  vast 
superiority  of  old  times  over  new ! 

The  most  exciting  topic  of  the  moment  is  a 
"Ladies'  Fair"  to  be  opened  Sunday  in  aid 
of  the  fund  for  the  wounded  of  the  war. 
Prince  Strozzi  has  offered  his  magnificent  pal- 
ace for  the  occasion,  and  the  Princess  Strozzi, 
to  whom  is  confided  the  direction  of  the  affair, 
is  almost  buried  in  the  beautiful  things,  sent 
for  sale,  and  has  lived  for  the  last  month  in 
the  bosom  of  female  committees.  To-morrow 
the  finishing  touches  are  to  be  given  to  the 

65 


arrangements,  and  the  day  after,  at  twelve 
o'clock,  the  halls  of  the  palace  are  to  be 
opened  gratis  to  the  public.  I  think  a  mistake 
has  been  made  in  not  exadling  an  entrance 
fee,  as  delicacy  will  not  restrain  the  non-buy- 
ing public  from  entering,  nor  could  a  franc 
paid  for  their  admission,  have  excluded  them. 
The  French  Theatre  at  the  Niccolini  is 
playing,  I  hear,  to  poor  houses,  partly,  of 
course,  from  the  absence  of  the  Court  and 
"  nous  autres^^  but  principally  because  the 
public  are  tired  of  the  Meynadier  company, 
that  has  now  been  playing  there  for  four  con- 
secutive years.  The  new  a6lress  too,  Mdlle. 
Estelle  Juillet,  has  rather  disappointed  expec- 
tations. Her  talents  seem  rather  undevel- 
oped and  she  isn't  beautiful  enough  to  make  a 
furore  whether  or  no.  In  short,  for  one  rea- 
son or  another,  the  ^'^  Lion  Amoureux''''  hasn't 
gone  down  with  a  Florentine  public.  Nobody 
cares  here  for  the  social  questions  of  the  day, 
for  anything  in  short  but  forbidden  love-mak- 
ing and  political  clap-trap  on  the  stage,  so  the 
crowd   gladly    forsake   the    Niccolini    for  the 

66 


Pagliano  and  the  Rossini^  formerly  the  Solle- 
cite.  This  latter,  especially,  offers  attractions, 
with  which  even  the  larger  theatres  just  now 
can  hardly  compete ;  for,  hasn't  it,  besides 
that  charming  opera  La  Cenerentola^  a  showy, 
flourishing  ballet,  with  ballerme  with  the 
shortest  of  short  petticoats,  with  costumes 
and  decorations,  mirrors,  galleries,  colonnades 
in  the  most  bewildering  confusion  and  impos- 
sible perspe(5live  ?  And  all  that  for  a  franc  ; 
not  to  say  that  what  with  the  opera  and  the 
ballet  you  make  almost  a  night  of  it,  and 
have  the  satisfaction  of  feeling  that  you  have 
got  more  than  your  money's  worth,  and  over- 
reached the  tmpresarw,  a  satisfadlion  as  keenly 
enjoyed  by  an  Italian,  as  by  any  thrifty  native 
of  Conne6licut  itself. 

I  regret  that  I  have  not  time  to  give  you  an 
account  of  an  interesting  meeting  of  the  Delia 
Crusca  Academy  that  took  place  last  Satur- 
day in  their  new  hall  on  the  ground  floor  of 
the  palace  of  the  Belle  Arti.  The  Accademia 
del  la  Crusca  was  founded  under  Francesco  de' 
Medici  in  1582 — revised  again  on  its  original 

67 


plan  in  1814  by  Napoleon  ist.  All  tlie  world 
of  course  has  read  of  this  famous  academy, 
instituted  for  the  purpose  of  preserving  the 
purity  of  the  Italian  language,  to  which  end 
it  has  been  engaged  all  these  long  years  upon 
a  didlionary,  that  twenty  years  hence  will 
hardly  be  completed.  The  word  crusca  means 
bran,  and  the  society's  emblem  is  a  sieve  with 
this  device,  ^''  II  piu  bel  fiore  ne  coglie'^''  (It 
gathers  the  finest  flour — the  finest  flour  is 
here  called  fior  di  fa7'ind)  in  allusion  to  its 
fun6lions  with  regard  to  the  Italian  tongue. 
The  decisions  of  the  Academy  admit  of  no 
appeal ;  its  authority  is  supreme  and  unques- 
tioned. The  members  are  composed  of  the 
first  literary  and  scientific  men  in  the  king- 
dom— the  siiie  qua  no7i  of  whose  election  is  a 
fixed  residence  at  Florence.  Would  to  Heaven 
that  we  in  America  had  a  similar  institution  ! 
Our  national  tendency  to  slang,  that  in  one 
way  or  another,  out  of  the  mouths  of  the  vul- 
gar, forces  itself  up  through  the  newspapers, 
even  into  our  popular  literature,  making  a  dyke 
of  the  sort,  an  almost  imperious  necessity. 

68 


Florence,  September  25,  1866. 

The  visiting  season  has  fairly  commenced 
and  cards  are  being  distributed  far  and  near 
with  unusual  a6livity.  Friends  from  summer 
resorts  are  dropping  in  with  faces  and  figures 
joyously  rosy  and  plump,  with  a  capital  of 
health  and  strength,  sufficient  even  for  a 
Florentine  winter  campaign — Carnival  and 
Lent  included — and  it  is  with  a  sort  of  self- 
pity,  mingled  with  remorse,  that  those  whom 
circumstances  have  confined  within  the  city 
walls,  look  back  upon  their  lost,  misused  sum- 
mer. The  "  sommites  "  of  the  great  world  are 
bestirring  themselves,  and  have  already  begun 
to  sift  and  examine  their  various  social  ma- 
terials, and  to  be  or  not  to  be  admitted  to 
certain  houses  and  reunions,  is  a  question  of 
tantalizing  solicitude  to  many  a  fair  aspirant 
of  fashion.  '='  *  *  '•''  *  * 
I  have  been  glad  to  learn  that  the  fair  at  the 
Strozzi  palace,  although  not  a  complete  suc- 
cess, resulted  in  giving  a  sum  of  over  five 
thousand  francs  to  the  fund  for  the  destitute 

69 


and  wounded  soldiers,  only  about  one-half 
that  the  lady  patronesses  expedled  to  raise. 
The  fa6t  is,  the  organization  of  such  enter- 
prises is  not  well  understood  here,  and  inde- 
pendent of  their  novelty,  two  or  three  other 
reasons  combined  to  render  this  bazaar  less 
brilliantly  fortunate  than  was  hoped.  In  the 
first  place  the  public  was  a  little  indignant,  a 
little  resentful,  that  the  Princess  Antonia 
Strozzi,  whom  a  "  sublime  benevolence,"  so 
one  of  the  morning  papers  here  termed  it,  had 
inspired  to  offer  the  use  of  her  palace  on  this 
occasion,  had  not  been  more  generously  in- 
spired to  proffer  one  of  her  many  magnificent 
and  vast  saloons,  instead  of  a  comparatively 
bare  and  unfurnished  ante-chamber,  as  the 
theatre  of  her  charity.  Then  again,  this  same 
carping  public  was  dissatisfied  with  the  toi- 
lettes of  the  ladies  presiding  at  the  tables, 
which  really  were  far  from  elegant.  Some 
said,  too,  that  the  ladies  themselves  were  not 
half  so  handsome  as  they  should  have  been, 
that  beauty,  not  rank,  was  the  sine  qua  non  on 
these  occasions,  while  others,  and  these  mostly 

70 


foreigners,  Americans  and  English,  com- 
plained bitterly  of  ttie  absence  of  that  indis- 
pensable element  of  success  in  our  fairs ^ 
young  and  pretty  girls,  and  this  last  com- 
plaint was  the  most  unreasonable  of  all,  as 
everybody  knows  that  young  girls,  whether 
pretty  or  ugl}^,  are  not  a  Florentine  institu- 
tion. 

In  the  meantime,  while  fair  ladies  are  pre- 
siding at  bazaars  and  fine  ladies  are  settling 
social  preliminaries,  all  the  world,  fair  and 
fine  ladies  included,  are  rushing  to  the  dif- 
ferent theatres  now  opened,  and  nightl}^  filled 
to  overflowing,  and  the  artistes  of  the  aristo- 
cratic Pergola,  being  still  engaged  in  rehears- 
ing L^  Africa  me  ^  which  is  to  be  put  upon  the 
stage  next  month,  it  is  permissible  to  amuse 
one's  self  at  the  smaller  and  less  fashionable 
places  of  public  amusement.  Among  them 
all,  none  perhaps  offers  just  at  this  moment, 
greater  attradlions  than  the  little  Rossini 
theatre  in  the  Borgognisanti.  I  think  I  told 
you  in  one  of  m}^  former  letters,  that  this 
miniature  theatre,  which    has   just    been  re- 


painted,  regilt,  reornamented,  transformed  in 
short  into  a  veritable  bijou ^  has  recently,  with 
the  permission  of  the  great  maestro^  changed 
its  name  from  the  SoUecite  to  that  of  Rossini^ 
and  is  devoted  exclusively  to  the  performance 
of  the  operas  of  its  immortal  namesake.  Last 
Thursday  the  impresario,  who  has  had  the 
good  taste  in  these  times  of  forced  loans  and 
domestic  disturbances,  to  give  to  the  public  a 
music,  joyous  and  enlivening  enough  to  make 
one  forget  the  annoyances  of  the  day,  com- 
menced his  season  with  a  spe6lacle  composed 
oi  La  Ceiierentola  and  //  Diavolo  Zoppo  (the 
Lame  Devil.)  Heavens  !  what  delicious  mu- 
sic it  is — that  of  the  Cenerentola,  what  variety  ! 
what  charm !  what  grace  !  but  to  hear  it  you 
must  bring  your  ears  to  Italy,  for  no  where 
else  will  the  self-same  performers  before  the 
self-same  audiences  produce  the  same  effe6l, 
and  less  than  anywhere  else  in  America.  It 
is  all  nonsense  for  us  Americans  to  pretend 
that  we  like  Italian  music  in  New  York, 
Boston  and  Philadelphia.  We  do  not.  We 
endure  it  in  those  places  as  we  do  other  enjoy- 


ments  that  fashionable  tyranny  imposes  upon 
us,  but  here  and  in  Milan  and  Naples  even, 
we  take  pleasure  in  it,  and  the  reason  is  that 
our  souls  are  ^''  en  rapporV  with  the  country 
and  the  people.  We  are  Italianized  for  the 
moment,  and,  forgetting  to  be  Americans,  can 
relish  something  that  is  not  the  mart,  the  ex- 
change, and  the  tribune.  But  to  return  to 
the  enchanting  music  of  the  Cenerentola^ 
which  I  have  rarely  heard  more  charmingly 
performed  than  on  that  evening,  owing  greatly 
to  the  perfeA  ensemble  of  the  piece.  All  the 
roles ^  the  most  insignificant  even,  those  that 
are  usually  given  to  poor  devils  termed  com- 
priniarie  here,  were  performed  by  veritable 
artists,  and  the  pretensions  of  vanity  and 
self-love  for  once  did  not  interfere  to  spoil 
the  general  effe6l.  Madame  Ferardi,  the 
very  handsome  prima-donna,  was  wonderfully 
chaste  and  sympathetic  in  her  rendering  of 
the  Cenerentola^  and  with  true  artistic  tadl 
neither  added  nor  took  away  anything  from 
her  role.  Her  success  with  the  intelligent 
audience  was  perfect,  and  her  final  rondo  was 

73 


twice  encored.  Nor  was  the  success  of  the 
young  tenor,  Piazza,  who  made  his  debiit  only- 
last  winter,  I  think,  less  brilliant.  His 
method  is  that  of  the  pure,  old  Italian  school, 
which  has  produced  Fraschini  and  Boccolini, 
and  connoisseurs  are  already  predicating  of  this 
young  tenorino^  that  he  will  succeed,  ere  long, 
Gardoni  and  Giuglini  at  the  theatres  of  Lon- 
don, Paris  and  St.  Petersburg.  I  wish  to 
Heaven  some  American  impresario  would  get 
the  start  of  them  all  and,  for  once,  secure  a 
talent  in  its  dawn  and  freshness,  to  opera- 
lovers  at  home ;  but  that  I  suppose  can  never 
be.  We  would  not  dare  to  be  the  first  to 
admire  and  encourage,  for  what  if  Europe 
should  refuse  to  follovv'  our  lead  ?  Better  its 
worn-out,  used-up  leavings  than  such  a  catas- 
trophe !  Better  those  waning  stars,  Grisi  and 
Ristori,  than  morning  brightness,  whose  sun 
may  be  arrested  ere  it  reach  its  noon-tide 
glory,  by  potent  Joshuas  on  this  side  of  the 
water.  Oh,  j^es,  by  all  means,  let  us  continue 
to  be  humble,  especiall}'-  as  it  is  a  virtue  we 
Americans  are  not  often  called  upon  to  prac- 

74 


tice.  But  to  return  to  charming,  negle(5led 
Cenerentola.  Giacomelli  (Don  Magnilico),  a 
great  favorite  with  the  Florentine  public,  in 
the  cavatina  ^''  Miei  ranipolli  femmini^''  sang 
in  a  style  of  the  purest  comic,  without  descend- 
ing to  those  vulgar  buffooneries  that  make  no 
one,  not  even  "  the  gamins "  laugh  now-a- 
days,  was  applauded  to  the  skies,  and  in  the 
duet  "  U7i  segreto  (T  importanza "  he  was 
superb.  In  short  nothing  could  have  gone  off 
better  than  the  whole  opera,  and  when  one 
refle6ls  that  with  it  all  there  was  a  ballet, 
such  as  it  was,  I  must  confess,  but  still  a  bal- 
let, and  that  the  entrance  to  the  theatre  was 
only  a  franc,  one  will  probably  exclaim,  as  I 
did  returning  home,  how  in  Heaven's  name 
can  it  be  done  for  the  money,  and  yet  it  is, 
and  profitably  too. 

Apropos  to  music,  her  sister  art  sculpture, 
is  just  now  offering  to  her  admirers,  an  occa- 
sion for  going  into  ecstasies,  if  they  like.  A 
bronze  copy  of  the  famous  David  of  Michael- 
Angelo  by  Professor  Papi,  is  being  exhibited 
in  the  royal  foundry  in  Via  Cavour^  and  yes- 


terday  witli  a  friend  I  went  to  visit  it — 
though  to  tell  the  truth  and  shame — my 
family,  my  country,  my  friends,  the  traveling 
public  generally,  and  the  newest,  freshest 
arrivals  especially,  I  can't,  I  never  could 
endure  the  original,  a  great  stuck-up  figure 
in  a  braggadocio  attitude,  reminding  one  of 
heroes  of  the  ring,  that  nothing  but  the  ge- 
nius of  Michael-Angelo  could  keep  upon  his 
legs,  but  of  course,  that  would  sustain  even  a 
worse  man  upright !  But  all  that  has  noth- 
ing to  do  with  the  copy,  whose  merit  is  incon- 
testible.  At  least  I  don't  contest  it.  It  is 
cast  in  that  inimitable  Florentine  bronze,  of 
which  Florence  is  so  justly  proud,  of  a 
smooth,  even  tint,  except  in  the  hair,  where, 
whether  accidentally  or  not,  the  reliefs  are 
of  a  sort  of  reddish  tint,  which  improve 
extremely  the  general  effe6l.  The  copy  is 
rigorously  exa6l,  even  to  a  reprodu6lion  of 
the  defe6ls  of  the  original,  for  which  Mr.  Papi 
has  been  greatly  applauded,  though  a  meaner 
model  would  probably  have  undergone  im- 
provements.    Such   as   it  is,    it   is    far  more 


agreeable  to  the  eye  than  the  original,  owing 
to  its  subdued  and  harmonious  coloring,  and 
it  will  soon  take  the  place  in  the  Piazza  della 
Signoria^  hitherto  occupied  by  the  celebrated 
original,  which  illustrious  bit  of  stone-work 
is,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  to  be  removed  to  the 
halls  of  the  Academy  of  the  Belle  A^'ti^  safe 
from  the  caprice  and  severity  of  the  elements. 
The  story  of  the  statue  is  as  follows  :  Towards 
the  end  of  the  15  th  century  the  Florentine 
Republic,  desirous  of  possessing  a  fine  statue 
of  David  for  one  of  the  piazzas — that  of  the 
Duomo,  I  believe — procured  an  immense  block 
of  Carrara  marble  for  the  purpose  and  offered 
the  job  to  the  competition  of  the  most  cele- 
brated sculptors  of  the  day.  Many  of  them 
of  course  were  anxious  to  obtain  such  an 
opportunity  of  distinguishing  themselves, 
among  others,  Leonardo  da  Vinci,  to  whom 
the  gotifaloniei'e^  Pier  Soderini,  was  anxious 
to  give  it.  But  the  friends  of  Michael- 
Angelo,  then  at  Rome,  successfully  exerted 
their  influence  and  obtained  the  preference, 
and  wrote  to  him  that  the  block,  the  obje6l  of 
77 


so  mucli  ambition,  was  at  his  disposition. 
He  returned  at  once  to  Florence  and  began 
the  work  the  13th  of  September  1501,  which 
was  completed  three  years  after,  in  1504.  He 
labored,  it  is  said,  with  passion  and  in  soli- 
tude, and  the  result  was  the  statue  that  all  the 
world  raves  about,  and  which  puts  me  in  mind 
of  a  prize-fighter. 

Yesterday  morning  Garibaldi  arrived  in  the 
city.  I  was  aroused  from  sleep  by  the  noise 
of  joyous  evvivas^  and,  on  asking  the  cause, 
was  told  that  Garibaldi  was  come  and  was 
then,  at  that  very  moment,  passing  our  door 
on  his  way  out  of  the  Porta  Romana  to 
Madonna  Mario's  (Jessie  White's).  I  rushed 
to  the  window,  but  he  was  no  longer  in  sight, 
only  the  joyous,  shouting  crowd,  and  I  almost 
cried  with  vexation  to  think  that  I  could  have 
slept  while  a  hero  was  passing,  and  that  hero 
Garibaldi.  I  will  see  him  yet,  though,  if  I  sit 
up  all  night  for  it  another  time.  In  the 
meantime  I  feel  that  Florence  and  every  one 
in  it  is  ennobled  by  his  presence. 


78 


Florence,  October  5,  1866. 

I've  seen  Garibaldi  !  !  Seen  him  !  I've 
pressed  his  stainless  hand  and  looked  into  his 
heroic  eyes — heroic,  but  tender  and  gentle  as 
a  woman's.  It  was  an  unexpected  pleasure  at 
last,  for  though  I  had  said  that  chains  and 
bolts  and  bars  should  not  keep  me  from  seeing 
Garibaldi,  if  ever  he  came  within  a  hundred 
miles  of  my  neighborhood,  yet  now,  when  he 
was  within  ten  minutes'  walk  of  my  very 
house,  I  hesitated  about  paying  him  a  visit. 
It  is  all  very  well  saying  what  you  would  do, 
such  and  such  a  case  occurring.  I've  known 
people,  whom  the  devil  himself,  tail,  horns, 
hoofs  and  all,  were  not  going  to  frighten,  re- 
treat pretty  rapidly  before  a  pugnacious  cat, 
and  after  all  Garibaldi  is  Garibaldi,  and 
stronger-minded  women  than  I,  have  hesitated 
before  paying  him  a  visit.  I  knew  too,  that 
he  abhorred  being  made  a  show  of,  and  was 
well  aware  that  half  the  people  who  wished  to 
see  him,  would  rush  just  as  eagerly  to  look 
upon    Ching-Chung,    or   the    woman   with  a 


beard,  and  how  was  lie  to  know,  that  I  be- 
longed to  the  other,  the  better  half?  how, 
indeed !  Better  stay  away  than  be  confounded 
with  the  sight-seers,  and  so  I  resolved  that  I 
would  stay  away,  and  should  have  stuck  to 
my  resolution,  had  not  a  friend,  whose  official 
position  made  it  a  duty  to  call,  and  insured  his 
reception,  invited  me  to  accompany  him.  He 
didn't  have  to  invite  twice  you  may  be  sure ; 
I  flew  to  my  room  to  get  ready ;  with  what  a 
beating  heart  I  put  on  my  bonnet,  how  hard 
I  tried  to  look  my  prettiest,  in  which,  by  the 
way,  I  didn't  succeed.  It  is  only  to  very 
young  women  that  emotion  is  becoming.  To 
us  "  well  preserved  "  ones  it  is  utter  undoing. 
How  happens  it,  by  the  way,  that  these  "  well 
preserved "  women  are  always  preserved  so 
late  ?  Why  not  put  them  sooner  into  pickle  ? 
But  I  must  not  digress,  to  settle  even  the  most 
important  questions,  especiall}^  while  on  my 
way  to  see  Garibaldi.  Crispis  Villa,  where 
he  was  staying  (he  went  first  to  Mario's)  is 
just  outside  of  the  Porta  Romana,  not  ten 
minutes  walk  from  our  house  in  the  Via  dei 


80 


Serragli,  so  we  soon  found  ourselves  there 
and  though  one  of  the  two  red-shirted  senti- 
nels, ignoring  my  friend's  official  chara(5ler, 
said  he  thought  we  should  not  be  received, 
M — 's  card  procured  us  instant  admission, 
and  we  were  so  fortunate  as  to  find  him  alone. 
Or  rather  almost  so,  for  though  two  gentlemen 
were  standing  at  the  window  of  the  drawing- 
room  into  which  we  were  shown,  I  only  learnt 
after  we  left,  that  one  of  them  was  Ricciotti 
Garibaldi,  and  on  the  whole  I  was  not  sorry 
that  I  had  not  known  it  sooner.  As  it  was,  I 
had  only  just  enough  eyes  for  the  Garibaldi ! 
Not  yours,  dear  public,  nor  mine,  nor  any- 
body's Garibaldi,  but  a  being  as  unlike  and 
superior  to  them  all  as  Heaven  is  to  Earth. 
In  a  twinkling,  the  hero  of  my  imagination 
had  disappeared  forever  before  the  grander 
reality,  and  with  my  whole  heart  I  paid  wil- 
ling homage  to  the  man,  whom  hitherto  I  had 
worshipped  as  a  demi-god.  Need  I  say  that 
his  mortal  aspe6l  was  by  far  the  noblest? 
Externally,  however,  he  was  the  Garibaldi  of 
the   photographs    and    the   print-shops.      He 


81 


wore  tlie  historical  red  sliirt,  and  the  almost 
equally  historical  red  cap,  and  I  was  very 
glad  of  it,  for  mortal  or  demi-god,  'tis  the  cos- 
tume that  becomes  him  best,  and  even  Gari- 
baldi in  my  eyes — remember  I  am  but  a 
woman — would  lose  a  portion  of  his  prestige 
in  any  other.  Fancy  him,  if  you  can,  in  a 
dress-coat  and  choker.  He  rose  as  we  entered 
and  saluted  us  with  a  simple  friendly  courtesy, 
that  put  me  at  once  at  my  ease,  or  rather 
would  have  done  so  if  anything  in  manner 
could,  but  my  heart  was  beating  ready  to 
break,  and  I  just  didn't  burst  into  tears.  I 
was  seeing  Garibaldi!  I  did  not,  though, 
make  a  fool  of  myself,  I  am  happy  to  say. 
Cold-hearted,  or  rather  no-hearted  Mrs.  Blank 
herself  could  not  have  behaved  with  more 
propriety,  and  here  perhaps  it  will  not  be  mal- 
apropos to  say  something  of  Garibaldi's  man- 
ners, which  are  just  simply  perfedion,  too 
perfe6l  for  description  even,  but  as  I  hold  that 
manners  are  the  man,  I  will  try  to  give  some 
faint  idea  of  them,  especially  as  Garibaldi,  the 
hero,  the  patriot,  the  soldier,  is  better  known 


82 


to  the  world  than  Garibaldi  the  gentleman — 
the  gentleman  of  an  entirely  new  school, 
though  it  was  founded  nearly  two  thousand 
years  ago !  No  airs  about  Garibaldi,  no 
assumption,  above  all,  no  condescension ! 
nothing  to  make  you  lose  an  inch  of  your 
stature,  or  stand  less  upright  than  usual  in 
his  presence,  and  yet  never  in  any  other  pres- 
ence have  I  been  so  impressed  with  the  vast 
distance  that  separates  man  from  his  fellow- 
man.  His  own  unconsciousness  of  the  distance 
makes  humility  anything  but  humiliating. 
One  uplooks  willingly  to  him  who  never  yet 
looked  down  upon  living  mortal.  Our  visit 
lasted  about  ten  minutes.  Delicacy  and  savoir- 
vivre  forbade  a  longer  intrusion,  and  of  course 
there  was  little  opportunity  for  conversation. 
I  did  not  even  ascertain  what  Garibaldi 
thought  of  some  of  my  favorite  crotchets, 
though  I  had  gone  prepared  with  one  or  two 
searching  questions.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that 
I  am  still  in  the  dark  as  to  his  opinion  of 
female  doctors,  orators,  and  notaries  public, 
and  do    not   even  know  whether   he   thinks 


83 


"  bloomers  "  becoming.  I  managed,  However, 
to  tell  him  bow  glad  everybody  would  be  in 
America  to  see  him,  and  how  much  we  had  all 
regretted  that  he  had  not  taken  part  in  our 
glorious  struggle  and  illustrated  our  vi(5lory 
with  his  name.  "  You  did  not  need  my  ser- 
vices," he  replied  with  a  smile,  "  moreover 
my  heart  was  always  with  you,  I  looked  upon 
your  cause,  as  not  so  much  the  cause  of  America 
as  that  of  the  universe  entire  ;  it  was  the  battle 
of  freedom  the  world  over."  A  few  more  words 
were  then  said,  the  usual  compliments  of  leave- 
taking  exchanged,  and  my  friend  and  myself 
left,  and  I  saw  him  no  more,  but  the  glow  that 
his  words  and  presence  illumined  in  my  heart, 
warms  and  brightens  it  still. 

Garibaldi  left  in  the  twelve  o'clock  train 
Saturday  for  Leghorn,  on  his  way  to  his  Isle 
of  Caprera,  where  he  must  so  long  to  find 
himself,  though  even  there  he  cannot  escape 
his  popularity ;  'tis  a  spe6lre  that  haunts 
even  his  fireside,  and  will  only  cease  to  be 
importunate  when  it  keeps  its  vigil  beside  his 
grave.     Never   was    anything   seen   like   the 


84 


wild  passion  of  enthusiasm  and  grief  that 
accompanied  his  departure.  Dear  Garibaldi ! 
it  is  love  even  more  than  admiration  that  he 
inspires !  and  sobs  burst  even  from  manly 
hearts  as  the  train  bore  him  away.  He 
made  no  speech,  but  silently  bowed  his  addio^ 
while  ''''Viva  GaribaldP  ''''Viva  Garibaldi ! '''' 
rang  through  the  air  in  a  shout  that  pierced 
the  skies. 

For  the  last  three  or  four  days  the  streets 
leading  from  the  Via  dei  Serragli  to  the 
"  Piazza  delta  Signoria "  have  been  encum- 
bered with  an  enormous  truck,  sliding  upon 
iron  rails,  that  are  taken  up  and  put  down  as 
fast  as  it  passes  over  them,  employed  in  trans- 
porting the  marble  group  of  the  Ratio  di 
Polissena — "  The  rape  of  Polyxana,"  by  the 
Chevalier  Pio  Fedi,  which  is  to  take  its  place, 
beside  many  another  illustrious  marble,  in  the 
Loggia  di  Orgagna.  It  is  a  colossal  affair 
and  it  is  the  fashion  to  admire  it.  I  doubt, 
though,  if  the  crowds  that  flocked  to  see  and 
admire  the  other  "r^^/6>"  that  has  so  long 
graced  the  same  locality,  would  confirm  the 

85 


general  tribute.  But  whether  they  would  or 
not,  the  time  has  gone  by  for  the  commemo- 
ration of  a  fable,  that  Homer's  genius  pre- 
serves quite  sufficiently  from  oblivion,  and 
since  there  is  no  dearth  of  subjedls  of  a  higher 
character  and  purer  interest,  "  en  rapport  "  too, 
with  the  manners  and  sentiments  of  the  age, 
the  artist  has  no  excuse  to  justify  his  pagan- 
ism. Enough  of  the  Rape  of  the  Sabines  for 
the  Loggia,  and  that  is  only  tolerable  on  the 
ground  that  it  had  the  plea  of  necessity  and 
the  scope  of  utility.  The  Romans  needed 
wives,  and  as  commercial  science  was  in  its 
infancy,  and  philanthropy  not  even  in  its  bud, 
neither  public  nor  private  enterprise  had  con- 
tracted by  ship-loads  to  supply  the  market, 
and  they  had  just  to  get  them  as  they  could  ; 
but  from  a  half-consenting  captive  to  the 
struggling  vi6lim  of  a  ruf&an,  who  has  just 
slain  her  brother,  and  resists  a  mother's 
agony,  there  is  a  world  of  difference  that  it 
needs  no  Columbus  to  discover. 

Professor   Fedi   has   certainly  erred   in  his 
subject,    and  as  his  error  is  colossal,  it  will 


force  itself  on  public  attention  and  help    to 
correal  a  very  general  mistake. 

The  treaty  of  peace  is  finally  signed,  the 
French  have  left  Rome,  the  Empress  Charlotte 
is  visiting  the  Pope,  Venice  is  preparing  to 
receive  her  King,  and  our  good  clergyman 
Mr.  Van  Nest  has  returned  to  Florence. 


Florence,  Odlober  8,  1866. 

Florence  is  in  a  state  of  collapse  since 
Garibaldi  left  it.  A  cold  hearthstone,  a 
squeezed  lemon,  a  theatre  by  dajdight,  a  wed- 
ding breakfast,  the  bride  departed,  are  faint 
images  of  its  dreary  flatness  and  desolation. 
Heroes  alas  !  are  fatal  to  the  common-places 
of  life,  above  all  to  its  common-place  people, 
the  moral  of  which  is,  that  all  men  should  be 
heroes,  and  my  belief  is  that  so  they  might  be 
if  they  liked,  for  to  that  effe6l  it  is  not 
necessary  to  storm  citadels  or  to  conquer 
kingdoms.  Every  man  has  his  Sicily  to  sub- 
due and   hero-worshippers,  as  we  women  all 

87 


are,  need  not  ered  altars  to  strange  gods,  if 
our  domestic  divinities  would  deign  to  be 
aught  but  hewers  of  wood  and  drawers  of 
water.  As  it  is,  while  men  are  what  they  are, 
the  incense,  that  should  with  steady,  constant 
flame,  burn  during  a  life-time,  blazes  upward 
now  and  then  in  one  all-consuming,  passionate 
flash,  to  leave  the  temple  dark  and  desolate, 
until  another  demi-god  descends  to  rekindle 
the  fire.  And  it  serves  you  right,  too,  ye 
lords  of  creation.  Be  Garibaldis  yourselves 
if  you  would  prefer  it  otherwise.  In  the 
meantime  we  who  adore  that  hero,  "  sans  peur 
et  sans  reproche^^^  will  bless  our  stars  that  such 
beings  do  appear  now  and  then  to  dissipate  our 
growing  misanthropy  and  revive  our  failing 
devotion. 

A  report  reached  Florence  a  few  days  since, 
that,  at  first  doubted  or  disbelieved,  has  since 
unfortunately^  been  confirmed.  The  Empress 
Charlotte  of  Mexico  is  mad,  and  the  Pope  is 
said  to  be  the  cause  of  it.  A  letter  in  this 
morning's  Italie  says,  she  reached  Rome  in 
perfeA  health,  but  that  the  day  following  her 


83 


arrival,  having  gone  to  the  Vatican  to  pay 
His  Holiness  a  visit,  she  left  his  presence  in 
great  agitation  and  dissolved  in  tears.  The 
Pope  returned  her  visit  the  next  day  and  left 
her  weeping,  and  it  was  afterwards  known 
that  he  had  blamed  with  great  severity,  cer- 
tain adls  of  her  husband  relative  to  the  church 
property  in  Mexico.  Hoping  to  soften  his 
rigor,  the  unfortunate  Empress  returned  again 
soon  after  to  the  Vatican,  but  far  from  obtain- 
ing comfort  or  consolation,  the  harshness  of 
Pio  Nono  seemed  to  redouble.  He  reproached 
her  with  Maximilian's  irreligious  condudl, 
which  her  influence,  he  said,  ought  to  have 
prevented,  threatened  them  both  with  divine 
vengeance,  and  finall}^  had  the  rudeness  to 
turn  his  back  upon  her,  a  woman  and  an 
Empress,  and  leave  her  alone  in  the  hall  of 
reception.  The  effect  was  terrible.  The 
Empress,  a  woman  of  intense  sensibility  and 
ardent  piety,  appalled  by  the  wrath  and  men- 
aces of  His  Holiness,  left  the  Vatican  com- 
pletely out  of  her  head,  and  had  hardly 
reached  her  hotel,   when    she    insisted    upon 

89 


returning,  and  once  there,  no  persuasions 
could  induce  her  to  leave  during  the  whole 
night.  The  papal  court,  as  you  may  well 
imagine,  is  in  a  state  of  the  greatest  excite- 
ment, and  the  Pope's  friends  have  already 
spread  the  report  that  she  has  been  poisoned. 
But  ho  one  is  deceived  for  an  instant  as  to  the 
cause  of  her  misfortune,  and  the  Pope's  per- 
sonal popularity  will  suffer  greatly  in  conse- 
quence. People  are  surprised,  too,  as  those 
who  differed  the  most  from  the  Pope  in  politics 
and  religion,  always  gave  him  the  credit  of 
being  a  perfedl  gentleman  and  particularly 
courteous  and  well-bred.  For  my  part,  I 
begin  to  think  that  he  himself  must  be  mad. 
Nor  would  it  be  wonderful  if  he  were. 

The  weather  is  getting  decidedly  cool — cold 
even.  The  ^^  al  fresco  ^^  theatres  are  shutting 
up  and  a  woolen  shawl  over  one's  shoulders 
is  a  comfortable  thing.  The  flowers,  however, 
continue  to  bloom  in  the  most,  I  should  say 
unblushing  way,  were  I  speaking  of  anything 
but  roses  and  pinks,  in  spite  of  the  tempera- 
ture, but  that  they  always  do  here.     Nothing 


90 


can  be  more  hardy  and  robust  than  Italian 
blossoms,  and  "fragile  as  a  flower"  would 
never  have  become  a  common  and  favorite 
figure  of  speech,  had  they  only  bloomed  in 
these  enchanted  regions.  Last  Friday  was 
the  Festa  di  Fie  sole  ^  in  honor  of  San  Francesco, 
and  I  joined  the  gay  throng  that  took  their 
way  to  this  pidluresque  village,  the  cradle  of 
Florence.  We  dined  in  the  open  air  upon 
chickens,  cooked  before  our  eyes  by  the  dozen, 
on  four  or  five  spits  ranged  one  over  the  other, 
drank  the  wine  of  the  country,  growing  liter- 
ally before  our  eyes  on  the  neighboring  hills, 
of  that  sparkling,  pungent  flavor  that  the 
Italians  call  ^''frizzantino''''  (whip  stroke), 
visited  the  Capuchin  Convent  situated  upon 
the  very  spot,  formerly  occupied  by  the  ancient 
Acropolis,  looked  with  astonishment  upon 
Etruscan  remains  of  the  old  walls  that  once 
surrounded  the  city,  bought  the  little  straw 
trumpets  with  which  children,  who  have  fond 
papas,  madden  you  all  the  time  you  stay,  and 
returned  home  quietly  along  the  road  by  the 
Arno,  entered  the  Porta  San  Gallo,  satisfied 

91 


with  a  day  pleasantly  if  not  usefully  spent, 
yet,  on  the  whole,  glad  that  a  year  must 
elapse  ere  I  could  enjoy  a  similar  satisfadlion. 

I  hear  that  now  that  the  peace  is  signed,  the 
legations  of  France  to  Florence  and  of  Florence 
to  Paris  are  simultaneously  to  be  elevated  to 
the  rank  of  embassies,  and  that  the  future 
Italian  and  Austrian  legations  will  receive 
the  same  designations,  in  which  case,  unless 
we  follow  suit,  Mr.  Marsh's  superiority  of 
time  will  have  to  yield  le  pas  to  that  of  of&cial 
rank.  Mr.  Marsh  has  hitherto  been  the 
senior  of  the  diplomatic  body,  and  of  course 
takes  precedence  of  all  the  other   ministers. 

The  last  moments  of  Austrian  dominion  at 
Venice  have  finally  arrived.  Bvery  sign  of 
its  past  empire  is  fast  disappearing,  and  this 
sepulchre  of  a  few  months  ago,  is  now  filled 
with  the  living,  raised  from  the  dead,  at  the 
trumpet  voice  of  liberty.  At  length  Italy  is 
free,  from  the  Alps  to  the  Adriatic.  The  tri- 
color waves  before  the  church  of  San  Marco, 
and  ere  long  will  float  above  the  Capitol. 


93 


Florence,  OAober  23,  1866. 

All  Florence  has  been  in  a  state  of  the  most 
extravagant  excitement  for  the  last  week 
about  Meyerbeer's  opera  "  Afncana^'*''  which 
came  off  on  Saturday  evening.  The  talk  of 
cafes,  boudoirs,  and  tea-tables  has  been  of 
nothing  else,  and  "  Are  you  going  Saturday 
to  the  Pergola?"  was  the  vital  question — the 
one  that  for  the  moment  took  precedence  of 
every  other.  Every  other  amusement  was 
voted  an  impertinence  and  a  bore.  Balls 
became  routs,  concerts  were  disconcerted,  tea- 
tables  upset,  and  society  in  general  was  com- 
pletely unhinged.  Many  a  long-indulged 
and  well-arranged  scheme  of  pleasure  was 
nipped  in  the  bud  by  this  full-blown  colossal 
enjoyment,  and  among  its  many  vi6lims  my 
own  little  tea-party,  to  my  thinking,  was  not 
the  least  important.  It  is  true,  that  I  might 
by  taking  thought,  have  avoided  the  catas- 
trophe, but  who  can  be  always  taking  thought  ? 
and  having,  in  spite  of  the  great  coming  event, 
which  for  more  than  a  month  had  cast  not 
93 


only  its  shadow,  but  its  ecHoes  before,  Heed- 
lessly invited  a  few  friends,  twenty  in  all,  to 
a  sociable  tea-drinking,  eight  only  surrounded 
the  alas !  no  longer  festal  board.  My  tea- 
table  had  come  into  collision  with  the  vessel 
of  the  "  Africaiia  "  and  gone  hopelessly  down, 
and  of  its  eight  survivors,  six  were  ladies  and 
the  others,  two  superannuated  beaux,  one  as 
deaf  as  fate,  and  the  other,  as  I  discovered 
afterwards,  an  unsuccessful  applicant  for  a 
stall  at  the  Pergola.  I  bore  my  disappoint- 
ment as  well  as  I  could,  but  it  was  no  great 
consolation  to  me,  to  learn  the  next  day,  that 
all  the  world  had  been  in  raptures,  surpassing 
all  former  musical  raptures,  and  that  never, 
perhaps,  had  expeAation  and  enthusiasm  been 
more  fully  satisfied.  The  representation  had 
been  a  perfect  unqualified  success,  and  well 
had  the  impresario^  Signor  Monare-Rocca, 
deserved  it,  for  independent  of  the  incontes- 
tible  merit  of  the  work,  no  pains,  no  expense, 
no  intelligence  had  been  spared  by  him  in  its 
interpretation,  and  I  am  told  that  even  in  Paris, 
it  was  not  represented  with  greater  magnifi- 

94 


cence.  The  orchestra  was  numerous  and 
admirably  drilled ;  the  costumes  made  at 
Paris  at  a  fabulous  expense,  after  designs 
approved  by  Meyerbeer  himself;  and  the  ves- 
sel, construdled  at  a  cost  of  20,000  francs  by  a 
Venetian  artist  of  great  merit,  though  encoun- 
tering difficulties,  owing  to  the  small  size  of 
the  stage,  and  the  almost  impossibility  of 
producing  nautical  illusion,  surpassed  public 
expedlation.  The  public  expeAation  of  artists, 
not  sailors,  luckily.  In  short,  the  success  of 
the  piece  was  as  great  as  even  an  impresario 
could  wish,  and  Signor  Monare-Rocca's  wishes 
must  have  been  more  than  usually  ardent  on 
this  occasion,  owing  to  the  enormous  outlay  of 
money  upon  its  getting  up,  and  still  more  to 
the  fa6l  that  all  the  second  row  of  boxes,  the 
"  Ordine  Mobile^''  as  it  is  called,  belongs  to 
private  individuals,  most  of  them  Florentine 
nobles,  who  pay  only  the  entrance  fee,  and  is 
consequently  wholly  lost  to  the  manager. 
This  loss  on  Saturday  evening  was  attempted 
to  be  compensated  by  raising  the  price  of 
admission  from  three  francs  to  five,  and  set- 
95 


ting  apart  a  number  of  seats  in  the  pit,  for 
which  ten  francs  were  demanded,  besides  aug- 
menting the  price  of  the  posti  distinti  (reserved 
seats)  to  fifteen  francs,  which  measures,  I  am 
told,  succeeded  in  indemnifying  the  impresario 
for  the  money  laid  out  and  produced  a  very 
good  net  profit,  as  the  theatre  was  crammed 
from  floor  to  ceiling,  and  crammed  it  remained, 
too,  up  to  the  last  moment  of  the  performance  ; 
six  long,  mortal  hours  of  musical  rapture, 
unmitigated  by  the  light  fantastic  toes  of 
ballerine^  or  their  still  lighter  and  more  fan- 
tastic petticoats,  by  aught,  in  fad,  but  the 
magic  variety  of  sound  and  sentiment,  that 
would  have  made  of  any  other  mitigation  a 
profanation.  The  prima-donna,  la  Signora 
Ferni^  I  am  told,  was  rapturously  applauded, 
and  seemed  made  expressly  for  the  role  of 
Selika.  Full  of  power  and  passion,  she 
idealized  and  sublimized  her  part,  which  was 
nobly  dramatic,  besides  being  divinely  lovely 
in  both  her  costumes,  though  most  so  in  that 
of  the  slave.  All  the  roles  were  unusually 
well  sustained  and  the  harmony  of  the  com- 


96 


position  was  not  disturbed,  as  it  is  witli  us  so 
frequently,  by  a  great  inferiority  in  the  minor 
parts,  fatal  to  dramatic  illusion  and  efifedl. 
The  great  singer  of  the  evening,  however, 
was  the  baritone,  //  Signor  Giraldoni^  in  the 
character  of  Nelusko,  a  true  and  great  artist 
in  every  sense  of  the  term,  and  to  him  the 
opera  owes  its  greatest  success.  Again  and 
again  he  was  called  upon  the  stage  to  respond 
to  the  frantic  acclamations  of  the  excited 
crowd,  though  evidently  desirous  of  escaping 
a  distincftion  he  would  have  preferred  to  share. 
But  I  refrain  from  a  longer  analysis  of  a 
performance  of  whose  merits  I  am  personally 
ignorant,  until  I  can  be  something  more  than 
an  echo  of  the  public  rapture,  and  return  con- 
tentedly to  my  deserted  tea-table,  an  account 
of  which  will  initiate  you  into  some  of  the 
difficulties,  to  which  a  disposition  for  hospi- 
tality exposes  us  birds  on  the  wing,  while 
temporarily  perching  in  foreign  lodging- 
houses.  My  friends,  as  I  told  you  before, 
were  invited  for  Saturday  evening,  and  early 
on  the  morning  of  that  day  I  commenced  my 

97 


preparations  for  tlieir  reception,  thinking, 
naturally  enough,  that  they  would  be  made 
in  a  twinkling  ;  only  twenty  people  were  com- 
ing. But  I  had  reckoned  without  my  land- 
lord, and  was  soon  dismayed  at  the  immensity 
of  the  task  I  had  undertaken.  Task  !  it  was 
an  enterprise !  and  courageous  as  I  am  (mor- 
all}^,  I  mean),  I  positively  trembled  when  I 
found  what  was  before  me.  I  found  there 
was  nothing,  just  nothing  in  the  house  for 
my  party.  Few  spoons,  fewer  cups  and  sau- 
cers, no  chairs  to  speak  of,  table-cloths  and 
napkins  dilapidated  and  in  tatters,  and  all  the 
rest  to  match.  Small  prevision  take  lodging- 
house  keepers  of  hospitable  intentions.  I  was 
in  despair,  and  would  have  postponed  on  the 
instant  my  tea-drinking  to  a  more  propitious 
occasion  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  had 
it  not  been  too  late !  Come  my  friends  must 
and  would,  and  with  or  without  the  needful, 
they  must  be  received.  No  time  was  to  be 
lost,  help  must  be  obtained,  and  the  aid  of 
friendly  compatriots  —  they  being  lodging- 
house  birds   of  the   same   feather  as  myself, 

98 


witli  nothing  but  their  plumage  that  they 
could  call  their  own,  not  to  be  thought  of. 
So  taking  courage  from  desperation,  I  resolved 
to  apply  to  my  landlord,  with  what  feelings 
you  may  imagine,  when  I  tell  you  that  one  or 
two  recent  skirmishes  with  him  on  the  subjedl 
of  porters'  fees  and  rights,  and  the  amount  of 
water  necessary  for  the  family  use,  questions 
on  which  we  differed  greatly,  he  believing 
firmly  in  limited  and  partial  bathing,  and  my 
ideas  taking  a  more  comprehensive  range,  had 
somewhat  acidulated  our  usually  friendly 
relations.  Nevertheless,  it  was  no  time  to 
think  of  all  that  now.  So  I  sent  for  him  and 
laid  the  case  before  him.  I  told  him  that  we 
Americans  were  a  social,  tea-drinking,  agglom- 
erating race,  seizing  on  every  pretext  to  grat- 
ify our  national  propensities,  not  doing  at 
Rome  as  the  Romans,  but  as  the  Bostonians 
do ;  and  that  it  was  a  landlord's  duty,  with  an 
American  lodger  in  view,  to  take  into  consid- 
eration the  national  character  and  needs,  and 
prepare  his  house  accordingly,  that  is,  supply 
it  with    an   unlimited    amount  of  cups,   tea- 

99 


spoons,  chairs,  etc.,  all  things  indispensable 
to  hospitable  rites.  I  added,  too,  that  were  I 
speaking  to  any  one  but  an  Italian,  I  should 
demand  a  cradle  and  a  rocking-chair.  My 
eloquence  succeeded.  Awed  either  by  the  fire 
and  force  of  audacity,  that  resides  in  the 
female  American  eye,  or  by  compunction  for 
past  negle6l,  he  succumbed  at  once,  and 
though,  when  I  asked  for  a  table-cloth  he 
gave  me  a  sheet,  it  was  not  a  bad  substitute 
after  all,  and  if  I  had  only  had  guests,  if  the 
mzpresario  of  the  Pergola  had  only  the  com- 
plaisance to  defer  for  one  evening  his  ill-timed 
performance,  my  twenty  friends  would  have 
had  a  cup  and  a  teaspoon  apiece,  and  my  tea- 
fight  would  have  been  the  most  brilliant 
reunion  of  the  season. 

Speaking  of  American  receptions,  I  must 
tell  you  that  last  Monday  evening  I  attended 
one  at  our  clergyman's,  the  first  of  a  series  to 
be  continued  every  Monday.  The  invitations 
were  given  from  the  pulpit,  and  extended 
indiscriminately  to  all  the  Americans  in  Flor- 
ence, a   surprising  proceeding  in  one  of  our 

IfJO 


compatriots,  as  of  all  people  on  the  face  of  the 
earth,  we  are  the  most  exclusive  in  our  social 
relations,  and  to  such  a  degree  is  this  the 
case,  that  foreigners  are  constantly  expres- 
sing their  surprise  at  the  rigor,  with  which 
what  are  called  aristocratic  distin(5lions,  are 
maintained  among  us  republicans !  They 
know,  of  course,  that  with  us  as  with  others, 
social  differences  exist,  but  imposed  upon  by 
our  pretended  scorn  of  the  grapes  that  refuse 
to  grow  in  our  climate,  sincerely  think  that 
they  are  based  upon  a  recognition  of  real 
superiority,  intrinsic  merit  of  some  sort,  inde- 
pendent of  wealth,  rank  and  position,  and  are 
excessively  amused  to  find  that  the  first  care 
of  an  American  abroad  is  to  hunt  up  a  gene- 
alogy !     Good  Heavens !  say  they,  why  does 

Mr.  M ,  whose  father  was  a  respe6lable  oil 

merchant  in  Philadelphia,  trouble  himself  to 
discover,  on  the  strength  of  his  very  common 
name,  that  he  is  of  Welsh  origin  and  related 
to  Lord  Y 's  family.  Why  not  be  satis- 
fied with  his  Quaker  extraction,  since  we  do 
not   ask    or   expe6l    Americans    to   be    earls' 

101 


remotest  cousins.     And  why,  above  all,  will 

Mr.    Z ,   a  man  born  in  your  American 

purple,  a  verj^  different  and  superior  stuff  to 
our  article,  you  pretend,  wear  it  so  humbly, 
so  cringingly  in  presence  of  those  clothed  in 
the  European  fabric  ?  Is  it,  then,  in  spite  of 
Mr.  Bright  and  Mr.  Mill,  a  baser,  coarser 
fabric  after  all  ?  But,  alas  !  digression,  my 
besetting  sin,  "that  fatal  Cleopatra,"  has  led 
me  a  weary  length  away  from  the  limits  of 
Mr.  V.  N's  drawing-room,  to  which  I  am  glad 
to  get  back,  though  it  offered  nothing  to  dis- 
tinguish it  from  similar  American  reunions — 
the  usual  tea  and  cake,  with  the  prettiest 
and  best  dressed  women,  the  most  sensible, 
thoughtful  and  earnest  men,  and  over  all  a 
rather  unusual  degree  of  sociability  and 
friendship,  emanating  probably  from  the 
warm,  kind  heart  of  our  pastor,  who  recog- 
nizes in  every  man  a  brother,  in  every  woman 
a  sort  of  angel.  Among  those  who  seemed 
particularly  to  enjoy  the  cordiality  of  our 
welcome,  I  remarked  an  old  gentleman,  the 
striking    and    pi6luresque    beauty   of   whose 

103 


head  would  have  made  a  beautiful  study  for 
an  artist.  I  learned,  on  enquiry,  that  he  was 
the  venerable  Amos  Kendall,  to  whom  I 
obtained  the  honor  of  an  introduclion.  He 
was  traveling,  he  told  me,  partly  for  his 
health,  which  had  been  greatly  benefited  by 
the  voyage,  and  his  cough  had  wholly  left 
him  in  Ireland.  God  grant  that  elsewhere  he 
may  leave  his  other  complaints,  and  long  may 
his  precious  life  be  preserved  to  those  who 
love  him.  The  party,  being  at  a  clergyman's, 
broke  up  early,  as  prolonged  and  godly  enjoy- 
ments are  generally  thought  incompatible, 
though  what  is  to  break  the  monotony  of 
eternal  blessedness,  our  pastors  forget  to  tell 
us,  and  everlasting  happiness  hereafter  has 
always  been  urged,  as  an  argument  for  an 
early  renunciation  of  the  joys  of  time. 


103 


Florence,  October  28,  1866. 

I  walked  to  churcli  this  morning  under  the 
gay  shadows  of  floating  flags  and  waving 
tapestry —  carpets,  counterpanes,  petticoats, 
every  article,  in  short,  that  united  the  "  red, 
white  and  green,"  were  dangling  from  the 
windows  to  festeggiare  the  "  kSz  "  of  the 
plebiscite  that  yesterday  confirmed  the  union 
of  Venetia  with  Italy.  The  bells  rang  out 
gaily  at  intervals  and  the  people  everywhere 
were  in  ecstasies  of  joy,  translated,  as  usual, 
Italian  fashion,  into  color,  noise  and  move- 
ment ;  and  by  the  end  of  next  week  half  of 
Florence  will  betake  itself  with  her  King  to 
Venice,  where  the  old  palace  of  the  Doges  is 
rapidly  preparing  for  his  reception.  The 
King  will  be  accompanied  by  a  numerous  and 
brilliant  suite,  the  greater  part  of  the  foreign 
ministers  of  the  number,  and  on  Wednesday, 
the  7th,  will  make  his  public  entry  into  the 
city  of  gondolas,  where,  if  he  can  only  con- 
tinue to  transmute  "  its  stones  "  into  gold,  the 
joy  with  which  all  are  preparing  to  welcome 

104 


him,  will  probably  prove  as  durable  as  it  is 
sincere  and  enthusiastic.  As  it  is,  however, 
the  croakers  already  begin  to  predi6l  a  speedy 
reaction,  when  the  unthinking  people  shall 
perceive  that  Vi(5lor  Emmanuel  is  a  man  and 
not  a  magician. 

Meanwhile  the  heart,  head  and  soul  of  Italy 
being  for  the  nonce  in  Venetia,  the  Florentine 
gossiping  ^'' pot-au-feu^^  less  richly  supplied 
than  usual  with  savory  ingredients  for  a  cor- 
respondent's letter,  simmers  quietly  over  a 
fire  kindled  at  too  great  a  distance  to  set  it 
boiling,  and  awaits  the  return  of  her  sovereign, 
ere  deigning  to  furnish  forth  a  table  fit  to  set 
before  a  king.  Other  '''' pots-mi-feu^'^  however, 
are  not  wanting  in  Florence,  for  the  season  of 
the  Scaldini^  the  people's  pot-ati-feu^  has  set 
in,  and  as  you  may  not  know  what  scaldini 
are,  I  will  tell  you,  that  they  are  small  earth- 
ern  pots,  filled  with  fine,  ignited  charcoal, 
called  brace^  with  which  Florentines  keep  soul 
and  body  together  through  the  winter,  in 
spite  of  carpetless  rooms  and  few  fire-places. 
'Tis  a  convenience  especially  adapted  to  this 

105 


do  Ice  far  7iie7ite  people,  for  having  to  be  held  in 
the  hands,  those  members  cannot  be  otherwise 
more  usefully  emploj^ed,  and  that  they  con- 
tribute to  promote  the  national  indolence  with 
which  I  so  heartily  sympathize,  believing  as 
I  firmly  do,  that  with  nations  as  with  individ- 
uals, there  are  those,  whose  mission  is  simply 
"to  be "  not  "to  do,"  and  foremost  among 
these  favored  people  I  place  the  Italians. 
However  that  may  be,  certain  it  is  that 
whether  deserving  or  not  all  the  merit  I 
claim  for  them,  the  Italians  couldn't  get 
through  the  cold  weather  without  their  scal- 
dini^  and  they  are  to  be  seen  in  every- 
body's hands  and  under  everybody's  feet, 
the  women  of  the  low^er  classes  carrying  them 
about  with  them  everywhere,  to  market  and 
in  the  churches  even,  cozil}'-  hidden  under 
their  shawls  and  aprons,  and  whether  in  a 
shop,  an  artist's  studio,  or  a  countess'  draw- 
ing-room, the  first  thing  offered  you  is  a  scal- 
dino.  Occasionally  too,  they  are  desecrated 
to  more  apparently  useful  purposes,  and 
enclosed  in  a  sort  of  hen-coop,  they  serve  as 

100 


bed-warmers,  while,  covered  with  a  small  wire 
net-work,  a  scaldino  becomes  an  ingenious 
little  cooking  stove,  on  which  a  bistecca  of 
lamb,  mutton  or  pork,  can  be  cooked,  and 
deliciously  too,  in  a  twinkling.  {Bistecca, 
by  the  wa}^,  is  the  Italian  for  beefsteak, 
and  it  also  means  a  cutlet  of  any  sort  or 
description.)  Here,  however,  truth  compels 
me  to  add,  ends  the  list  of  the  scaldind's 
merits,  for  as  a  domestic  institution,  I  ques- 
tion greatly  its  utility,  and  fancy  the  home 
virtues  flourish  best  beside  a  stationary  chim- 
ney-corner ;  indeed  I  am  often  compelled  to 
attribute  a  great  deal  of  the  out-of-door  rov- 
ing cafe-habits  of  the  Italian  husbands,  to  this 
will-o'-the-wisp,  wandering,  vagabond  fireside, 
though  it  seems  ungrateful  in  me  to  say  it, 
as  from  September  to  June,  no  Italian  of  them 
all  hugs  this  precious  little  convenience  more 
closely  to  her  bosom  than  my  shivering  self, 
and  so  indispensable  has  it  become  to  my 
comfort,  that  in  spite  of  my  many  hair-breadth 
escapes,  (for  I  upset  one  on  an  average  two  or 
three  times  a  day,)  my  friends  predidl  that  I 

107 


shall  come  to  a  fiery  end  at  last,  and  "  Not 
burnt  to  death  yet,"  is  the  common  form  of 
salutation  of  several  of  them.  So  profound 
indeed  is  their  convidlion,  that  finally  it  has 
infected  me,  and  wishing  to  be  prepared  for 
every  emergency,  I  sat  down  the  other  day 
and  wrote  my  epitaph,  and  hope,  the  case 
occurring,  that  it  may  serve  as  a  warning  to 
other  devotees  of  the  pot-au-feu. 

I  wonder,  by  the  way,  why  people  do  not 
oftener  take  eternity  by  the  forelock  and  write 
their  own  epitaphs  !  Fewer  lies  would,  I  am 
sure,  be  told,  and  the  monotony  of  praise 
would  at  least  occasionally  be  diversified  by 
wholesome  confession,  as  few  people  care 
much  for  posthumous  reputation,  and  no  one 
is  bound  to  tread  lightly  over  his  own  ashes  ! 
My  epitaph  runs  thus,  if  you  like  to  read  it : 

Here  lies  poor  H ,  her  age  pray  how  should  we 

know, 
The  vicflim  of  an  overturned  scaldino. 
"When  warned  of  what  she  might  expecft,  she  jeered, 
Nor  flames  above,  nor  flames  below  she  feared  ; 
Heedless  of  counsel  friends  were  always  giving, 

108 


Hot  water  was  her  element  while  living, 
And  dying  by  the  cruel,  ruthless  blaze, 
In  one  more  hot,  we  fear,  she  dwells  alwa5^s. 
From  mortal  rushing  to  immortal  ire. 
Out  of  the  frjdng-pan  straight  into  the  fire. 

I  don't  pretend  to  give  this  as  a  model 
epitaph,  though  my  friends  think  it  pretty 
fair.  An  equal  amount  of  sincerity  on  the 
part  of  the  world  in  general  would  soon  make 
of  a  graveyard  an  entertaining  and  instruc- 
tive place,  where  ''  sermons  in  stones  "  could 
not  be  listened  to  with  careless  ears. 

One  thing  naturally  leading  to  another,  I 
am  glad  to  find  that  other  people  occasionally 
get  into  hot  water  as  well  as  myself,  and 
among  them  our  prefedl.  Count  Cantelli,  who 
has  just  now  got  himself  involved  in  a  stupid, 
unreasonable  quarrel  with  the  proprietors  of 
the  Niccolini  Theatre,  about  a  box,  that  he 
insists  upon  having  elsewhere  than  where  they 
choose  to  give  it  to  him.  The  affair  is  simply 
this  :  The  present  prefecfl,  and  his  predecessors 
as  well,  have  always  had  a  box  placed  by  the 
proprietors  of  the  theatre  at  their  disposition 

109 


on  the  third  tier,  and  as  it  was  in  no  case 
obligatory  upon  them  to  give  ajiy  box,  the 
former  prefedls  have  accepted  it  wherever  they 
conld  get  it,  and  been  thankful  enough  to  get 
it  at  all.  Not  so  Count  Cantelli ;  he  insists 
upon  having  a  loge  on  the  first  tier,  and  his 
pretensions  being  resisted,  has  actually  refused 
to  authorize  the  reopening  of  the  theatre, 
though  the  bills  of  the  company  have  adlually 
been  placarded  all  over  the  city  for  a  perform- 
ance next  week.  As  both  parties  keep  firm, 
and  show  no  symptoms  of  yielding,  the  affair 
is  getting  serious,  and  will  soon,  I  am  told,  be 
carried  before  the  tribunals.  But  this  is  not 
all.  Not  content  with  one  theatrical  quarrel, 
our  prefedl  has  another  on  his  hands,  origina- 
ting in  similar  pretensions  with  regard  to  the 
Alfieri  Theatre,  which  will  have  to  be  settled 
in  the  same  way,  if  his  prepotenza  does  not 
succumb,  as  sooner  or  later  they  say  he  must. 
These  theatrical  brawls,  by  the  way,  are  no 
novelty  in  Italy.  Not  long  since  an  analogous 
event  took  place  in  Venice,  when  the  Governor, 
Cavalier  Toggembourg,    made    an   indentical 

no 


demand  of  the  Malibran  Theatre,  and,  like 
our  prefe6l,  refused  to  allow  it  to  open.  The 
impresario  declined  to  make  any  concession 
and  the  theatre  remained  closed,  the  Austrian 
Governor  fulfilling  his  threat.  But  in  the 
mean  time  he  telegraphed  to  Vienna  for  in- 
structions. They  came,  and  he  was  ordered 
to  open  the  theatre,  but  at  the  same  time  to 
take  the  affair  before  the  tribunal,  and  the 
result  was  that  he  had  to  give  in,  the  court 
deciding  against  him.  While  writing  this 
last  paragraph  a  friend  has  come  in,  who 
informs  me  that  the  difficulty  between  the 
prefedlure  and  the  proprietors  of  the  two 
theatres  has  been  amicably  settled.  Count 
Cantelli  has  admitted  that  his  pretensions 
were  unfounded  and  removed  his  veto  from 
the  "  Niccolini "  and  the  "  Alfieri ;" — "  tant 
mieux pour  lui P'' 

This  is  now  "  la  belle  saison  "  for  theatres 
of  every  description,  and  there  is  not  one  of 
them  that  is  not  filled  to  overflowing  every 
evening.  The  impresario  of  the  Pergola  how- 
ever, though  the  Africaine  is  as  popular  as 
111 


ever,  has  been  compelled  to  reduce  to  tiie 
usual  prices,  as,  after  the  first  night  it  was 
performed  to  empty  boxes.  The  Italians  love 
music  but  only  at  a  fair  price.  Catch  them 
paying  too  dear  for  their  whistles  of  any  sort. 
Ristori's  success  in  New  York  and  elsewhere 
raises  a  smile  on  the  faces  of  the  real  connois- 
seurs of  the  drama  here.  They  think  it 
strange  that  what,  at  its  best,  long,  long  years 
ago,  was  never  genius,  should  excite  such  en- 
thusiasm in  its  decline,  and  the  transports  of 
the  critic  of  the  New  York  Herald,  who  from 
various  admiration  points — now  in  the  dress 
circle,  now  in  the  parterre,  and  anon  armed 
with  a  promenade  ticket,  vented  his  delight  in 
frantic  bravos  of  a  fe77iale  performer,  filled 
them  with  intense  amazement.  As  if  forsooth 
one  could  not  be  enraptured  in  spite  of  gram- 
matical harmony  and  ignorance  of  the  lan- 
guage. For  my  part  I  think  nothing  could 
have  been  more  gratifying  than  this  tribute  to 
the  woman,  independent  of  the  author  she 
interpreted. 

The  desolating  work  of  improvement  still 

112 


goes  on  here  with  cniel  celerity,  and  on  emerg- 
ing after  a  week's  seclusion  in  the  house,  you 
discover  architectural  marvels  equal  to  those 
accomplished  in  the  same  space  of  time  in 
Chicago  or  St.  Louis.  Kverywhere  churches, 
palaces  and  cloisters  in  demolition,  fill  your 
nostrils  and  put  your  eyes  out  with  the  sacred 
dust  of  ages,  and  no  one  but  the  lonely  lover 
of  the  past  like  myself,  seems  to  heed  the  ruin. 
The  Italians  of  to-day  have  no  reverence  for 
anything,  and  turn  up  as  lightly  the  soil  that 
contains  the  ashes  of  heroes  and  saints,  as  we 
do  a  potato  field. 

Dr.  V.  N 's  tea-parties    still    continue, 

theatres  excepted,  the  only  gayety  we  Ameri- 
cans just  now  indulge  in.  His  wife  has  just 
returned  and  his  reunions  will  probably  be 
even  more  delightful  than  heretofore,  as  the 
most  agreeable  drawing-room  in  the  world, 
without  a  lady  in  it  to  do  the  honors,  is  a 
setting  without  its  gem. 

Mr.  Fox,  the  hero  of  the  St.  Petersburg  and 
Moscow  fetes,  arrived  here  yesterday,  and  the 
Legation  and    Consulate    are    in    a  state    of 

U3 


friendly  and  patriotic  adlivity  very  pleasant  to 
witness,  and  I  hope  it  is  agreeable  to  the  objed 
of  it.  I  shouldn't  like,  though  to  have  such  a 
fuss  made  about  me,  and  when  I  get  famous  I 
mean  to  retire  to  the  desert. 


Florence,  November  6,  1866. 

Last  Friday  being  the  festival  of  the  dead, 
la  festa  di  tutti  morti^  in  spite  of  a  gloomy, 
sullen  sky,  threatening  rain  at  every  instant, 
I  started  for  a  visit  to  San  Miniato  al  Monte, 
whose  church  and  surrounding  cemetery  are 
at  present  the  most  fashionable  receptacles 
for  the  dead  in  the  neighborhood  of  Florence. 
Everybody  who  has  visited  this  cit}'-  will 
recall  the  view  of  San  Miniato  as  seen  from 
the  center  of  Ponte  Vecchio,  and  few  trav- 
elers, however  short  their  stay  in  the  capital, 
fail  to  visit  it.  It  is  a  beautiful  church,  of  a 
simple  and  noble  style  of  architecture,  situ- 
ated upon  a  hill  on  the  east  of  Florence,  and 
did  it  possess   no  other  attradion   than  the 


114 


beautiful  view  from  its  terrace  of  the  valley  of 
the  Arno,  with  its  encircling  mountains,  it 
would  be  well  worth  visiting.  But  of  course 
no  Italian  church  can  be  so  comparatively- 
barren  of  interest,  and  that  of  San  Miniato, 
like  every  other  in  this  enchanted  land,  pos- 
sesses its  treasures  of  art,  its  legends,  and  its 
miracles,  besides  being  especially  famous  for 
having  been  a  military  post,  fortified  by 
Michael-Angelo,  in  a  vain  attempt  to  defend 
Florence  from  the  power  of  the  Medici,  in  the 
last  siege  of  the  city.  Truly,  the  dead  should 
sleep  contentedly  in  such  illustrious  dust,  and 
were  aught  wanting  to  their  sweet  repose, 
methinks  the  tears,  that  so  often  moisten  it, 
telling  of  living,  undying  affe6lion,  should 
satisfy  the  most  exadling  spirit.  Thinking 
thus,  I  took  my  way  out  of  the  Porta  San- 
Miniato,  and  soon  found  myself  in  the 
cypress-bordered  avenue,  the  Via  Crucis  that 
leads  to  the  church.  The  road  was  thronged 
with  people,  most  of  them  in  deep  mourn- 
ing garments,  all  wending  their  way  to  the 
church,  carrying  in  their  hands  nosegays  and 

115 


wreaths  of  flowers,  witli  whicli  to  adorn 
graves,  whose  tenants,  this  beautiful  custom 
of  yearly  commemoration,  helps  to  keep  fresh 
and  vivid  in  their  hearts.  Many  were  the  sad 
faces  that  I  saw  as  I  went  on,  many  more, 
composed  to  a  decent  conventional  gravity, 
and  in  all,  the  consciousness  of  mortality  and 
its  woes  were  more  or  less  visible.  Death  at 
such  times  asserts  his  supremacy,  and  even  a 
transient  recognition  of  his  might  is  beneficial 
in  a  community  like  this.  Moreover  a  seed 
sown  upon  a  grave  occasionally  blossoms  into 
a  plant  of  eternal  life. 

Hurrying  rapidly  on  in  spite  of  my  reflec- 
tions, for  the  rain  drops  already  began  to  fall, 
I  soon  reached  the  church  and,  regardless  of 
the  lovely  view  to  be  seen  from  its  terrace, 
entered  its  doors.  The  scene  that  met  my 
eyes  suffused  them  instantly  with  tears ;  the 
dead,  the  unforgotten  dead  were  there ;  their 
shadows  filled  the  church  and  seemed  more 
real  than  the  living  mourners.  The  floor  and 
walls  of  the  church  were  covered  with  sepul- 
chral   slabs,    and    beside    each   taper-lighted, 

116 


flower-strewn  grave,  one  or  more  dark-robed 
figures  sat  or  knelt  and  prayed  in  a  silence 
unbroken  except  by  an  occasional  sigh  or 
sob.  Never  have  I  witnessed  a  scene  more 
impressive,  though  many  a  grand  and  strik- 
ing pageant  has  passed  before  m}^  ej'-es,  and 
overcome  by  its  sad  and  strange  solemnity,  I, 
too,  flung  myself  upon  my  knees  and  mourned, 
ah  how  bitterly,  my  dead  —  father,  sister, 
brother.  They  all  came  back  to  me,  there  in 
that  strange  church,  in  a  foreign  land !  and 
amid  the  passionate  weeping  that  the  memory 
of  their  loss  occasioned,  they  bade  me  hope ! 
Ah  !  beautiful,  blessed  custom  that  thus  keeps 
alive  all  that  is  holiest  and  best  within  us ! 
Why  canst  thou  not  be  transplanted  to  my 
own  dear  land,  where  mammon  and  mate- 
riality reign,  alas,  supreme?  Why  cannot 
we,  too,  occasionally  steal  a  da}^  from  the 
market  and  exchange,  to  pass  it  with  the 
angels  ?  Vain  wish,  perhaps,  and  yet  I 
cherish  it.  Lingering  long  amid  the  sacred 
precindls,  and  leaving  them  at  last  unwil- 
lingly,   warned   by   the    gathering   gloom,    I 


117 


turned  at  last  my  face  to  the  city,  and  taking 
tlie  same  cypress-bordered  path,  paused  for  a 
moment  on  my  way  down  at  the  Franciscan 
Convent  of  San  Salvatore  del  Monte,  about 
half-way  between  San  Miniato  and  Florence, 
where  similar  mournful  ceremonies  were  tak- 
ing place.  This  convent,  like  the  church 
higher  up,  is  rich  in  historical  and  poetical 
reminiscences,  and  its  neighborhood  is  famous 
as  the  scene  of  the  Call  of  San  Giovanni 
Gualberto,  one  of  those  charming  legends, 
that  make  almost  every  foot  of  Italian  soil,  a 
scene  of  romantic,  haunting  interest,  beside 
which  mere  historical  fa(51s  are  poor  and 
sterile.  The  story  runs  thus :  The  San  Gio- 
vanni in  question,  the  founder  of  the  Bene- 
didline  Convent  at  Vallombrosa,  was  not, 
alas !  always  a  saint ;  far  from  it,  indeed,  he 
was  a  noted  sinner,  and  without  a  miracle,  a 
sinner  probably  would  have  remained  to  his 
dying  day.  The  son  of  a  high  and  mighty 
baron,  in  riotous  living  he  passed  his  time, 
disregarding  alike  the  tears  and  entreaties  of 
a  pious  mother,  and  the  angry  threats  of  a 

118 


stern  father,  till  finally  so  completely  did  lie 
abandon  himself  to  vicious  courses,  that  even 
among  the  dissolute  he  became  renowned  for 
the  profligacy  and  infamy  of  his  condudl. 

Hopeless  of  any  change,  his  father  at  last 
ceased  to  menace,  his  mother  almost  to  pray, 
when  Heaven  took  the  prodigal  in  hand,  and 
by  means  of  a  terrible  domestic  calamity,  suc- 
ceeded in  bringing  him  to  repentance.  His 
brother,  his  only  brother  Hugh,  was  killed  in 
a  brawl,  and  so  greatly  was  he  a£fe6led  by  his 
loss,  that  renouncing  on  the  instant  every 
other  pursuit,  he  swore  to  live  for  nothing  but 
to  punish  his  murderer  and  avenge  his  death. 
His  gay  companions,  his  beautiful  mistresses, 
were  sacrificed  without  a  regret  to  the  deadly 
passion  that  consumed  him,  and  Providence, 
doubtless,  assisting  to  bring  about  an  event, 
that  was  destined  to  end  in  his  conversion,  soon 
placed  the  homicide  within  his  reach.  Return- 
ing one  Good-Friday  from  San  Miniato,  accom- 
panied, as  usual,  by  a  band  of  armed  followers, 
he  met  the  murderer  in  a  narrow  road  from 
which  there  was  no  escape,  and  prepared  to 

U9 


put  His  terrible  vow  in  execution,  and  would 
surely  have  done  so  had  not  his  apparently 
doomed  vi6lim  sunk  upon  his  knees,  and 
extending  his  arms  towards  him  in  the  form 
of  the  Holy  Cross,  adjured  him  by  the  sacred 
symbol  and  the  solemn  memories  of  that 
blessed  day,  to  have  mercy  upon  him.  His 
appeal  was  not  made  in  vain.  Gualberto 
relented,  forgave  his  enemy,  and  more  than 
that,  taking  him  by  the  hand,  he  conducted 
him  to  the  church  of  San  Miniato,  when  upon 
coming  before  the  crucifix  above  the  altar,  the 
head  of  our  Saviour  bowed  to  Gualberto  in 
token  of  approval  of  his  magnanimous  a6l, 
which  miracle  so  moved  Gualberto,  that  on 
the  instant  he  vowed  to  devote  the  rest  of  his 
life  to  God,  and  forthwith  became  a  monk  in 
the  neighboring  monastery.  He  did  not 
remain  there  long  however,  for  his  piety,  like 
that  of  so  many  others,  making  him  critical 
and  intolerant,  he  soon  took  umbrage  at  the 
free  and  jovial  character  of  the  Abbot,  a 
philosopher  in  his  way,  who,  from  the  gloom, 
even  of  a  cloister,  contrived  to  extraA  a  few 

130 


sunbeams,  and  having  particularly  set  his 
face  against  sunbeams,  and  looking  upon  the 
sun  itself  as  an  interloper  and  vagabond  in 
Creation,  San  Giovanni  Gualberto,  in  com- 
pany with  another  monk  of  similar  sourness 
of  sentiment,  shook  the  dust  off  his  feet 
against  the  jolly  abbot,  and  betook  himself  to 
the  shades  of  Vallombrosa,  where  he  estab- 
lished the  BenediAine  convent,  that  all  the 
world  goes  to  see,  and  set  himself  seriously  to 
work  at  the  extirpation  of  sunbeams,  a  task  a 
good  many  of  his  Protestant  brethren  have 
like  himself,  undertaken,  alas !  too  often  suc- 
cessfully !  too,  too  often !  I  have  lingered  so 
long  among  convents  and  tombs  that  I  have 
hardly  time  for  an  account  of  a  visit  I  paid 
yesterday  morning  to  an  establishment  of  a 
very  different  description,  but  very  interesting 
also  in  its  way.  Furnished  with  a  permit,  I 
found  my  way  yesterday  morning  to  the 
royal  manufacftory  of  the  pietre  dure  or 
Mosaics,  in  the  via  del  Ciliegio,  which  is  at 
this  moment  very  busily  occupied  in  the  prep- 
aration of  objects  for  the  coming  exhibition  of 

121 


Paris.  Everybody  lias  of  course  seen  and 
probably  possessed  specimens  of  Florentine 
Mosaics,  but  to  see  them  in  perfedlion,  to 
know  what  is  possible  in  a  combination  of 
stones  of  different  colors,  one  should  visit  this 
establishment,  where  a  judicious  choice  can  be 
made  of  several  different  stones,  whose  varied 
shades,  arranged  with  patient  and  minute 
attention,  produce  an  effeS:  that  only  the 
finest  painting  can  equal.  The  tables  they 
are  making  for  the  exhibition  are  just  simply 
marvelous,  and  the  price  of  one  of  them,  one 
hundred  and  seventeen  thousand  francs,  seems 
anything  but  astonishing — one  especially  of 
porphyry,  in  the  middle  of  which  were  all 
sorts  of  bacchanal  attributes,  surrounded  by  a 
border  of  flowers  that  were  positively  fra- 
grant. I  spent  two  hours  looking  at  the 
beautiful  things,  my  eyes  growing  brighter 
and  wider  open  as  I  looked,  and  I  only 
regretted,  as  I  came  away,  that  I  was  not  a 
Stewart  or  a  Rothschild.  As  I  hear  that  the 
former  is  going  to  Paris  on  the  occasion  of  the 
exhibition,  I  hope  he  will  purchase  some  of 


132 


these  exquisite  objedls  of  art,  for  sucH  they 
are,  attaining  the  beau-ideal,  art's  proper 
objedl. 

Yesterday  morning  our  minister,  Mr. 
Marsh,  accompanied  by  Capt.  Fox,  of  the 
Navy,  Mr.  Clay,  our  Secretary  of  Legation, 
and  the  most  ef&cient  of  its  attaches,  left 
Florence,  I  am  told,  to  meet  the  King  on 
his  entrance  into  Venice.  It  was  whispered 
about,  however,  in  the  course  of  the  day,  that 
the  King  had  been  taken  suddenly  ill,  and  his 
entrance  w^ould  have  to  be  postponed,  but  as 
no  confirmation  of  the  rumor  appeared  in  the 
evening  papers,  it  was  probably  a  false  report. 
Another  bit  of  gossip  was  that  the  Crown- 
Prince  had  made  a  morganatic  marriage. 


1^ 


Florence,  November  24,  1866. 

In  spite  of  every  effort  of  the  municipality 
to  the  contrary,  the  King's  reception  to  his 
Capital  last  Thursday  was  a  complete  failure. 
The  city  had  outdone  itself  in  preparations. 
Night  and  day  for  more  than  a  week,  work- 
men had  been  employed  in  its  decoration,  but 
vain  were  triumphal  arches,  waving  flags, 
winged  lions,  trophied  arms,  tapestried  glories 
of  every  description ;  vain  the  Syndic's  pray- 
ers, almost  commands,  to  the  people  to  be 
enthusiastic,  loyal,  and  einpresse.  The  King 
passed  through  the  resplendent  streets,  unwel- 
comed  by  the  hearts  of  his  subjects,  and  took 
his  sullen  way  through  the  midst  of  the 
crowds,  assembled  to  see  the  show,  with 
scarcely  an  evviva  to  greet  his  return.  It  is 
said,  even,  that  on  his  arrival  at  the  Piazza 
Pitti,  he  was  saluted  with  hisses  instead. 
Many  reasons  for  this  strange  dissatisfa6lion 
besides  the  memories  of  Custoza  and  Lissa 
have  been  alleged.  The  King  is  reproached 
with  partiality  for  Turin,  his    ancient  capital, 

124 


with  receiving  there  instead  of  at  Florence, 
the  Venetian  deputation,  but,  above  all,  with 
his  entourage  of  inauvais  sujets.  And  though 
it  is  asserted  that  Cialdini,  the  people's  favor- 
ite, has  consented  to  accept  the  place  of  first 
aide-de-camp  to  his  Majesty,  on  condition  of 
making  a  clean  household,  and  turning  out 
the  civil  and  military  ofiicers,  that  at  present 
disgrace  it,  until  the  thing  is  done  as  well  as 
said,  the  Florentines  will  not  cease  to  doubt 
the  King.  To  all  these  legitimate  causes  of 
discontent,  add  that  on  Thursday  he  was  two 
hours  later  than  he  was  expecl;ed,  and  the 
absence  of  evvivas  is  sufficiently  accounted 
for,  as  it  is  only  the  loved  and  popular  who 
are  watched  and  waited  for  with  patient  impa- 
tience. It  was  one  o'clock  instead  of  eleven, 
the  hour  fixed,  when  the  cannons  of  the  fort- 
ress announced  his  arrival  at  the  station, 
where  all  the  grand  dignitaries  of  the  city 
and  many  others  beside,  were  awaiting  him, 
and  the  train  had  scarcely  reached  the  depot, 
when  Baron  Ricasoli  approached  the  door  of 
the  royal  wagon  with   outstretched  hand,  to 

125 


welcome  him,  to  which  his  Majesty  responded, 
Italian  fashion,  by  a  cordial  kiss  on  each 
cheek,  a  salutation  he  graciously  extended  to 
the  five  cabinet  ministers  accompanying  Sig- 
nor  Ricasoli,  and  afterwards  shook  hands  with 
several  others,  entitled  by  rank  or  position  to 
the  distin(5lion  of  a  personal  greeting,  the 
young  princes  following  his  example.  The 
King  then  entered  a  magnificently  furnished 
pavilion,  especially  prepared  for  the  occasion, 
where  several  ladies  were  in  waiting,  one  of 
whom  presented  him  with  an  exquisite  bou- 
quet, tied  with  the  national  colors,  which  he 
received  with  his  accustomed  gallantry  and 
kept  in  his  hand  until  he  reached  the  Pitti, 
and  then,  leaving  the  pavilion,  he  slowly  pro- 
ceeded, bowing  right  and  left,  to  his  carriage, 
and  commenced  his  progress  through  the  city, 
which,  as  I  said  before,  was  anything  but  a 
triumphant  one.  He  was  followed  by  several 
other  carriages,  with  the  royal  liveries,  con- 
veying ministers,  generals,  deputies,  court 
officials,  and  other  notabilities,  in  their  proper 
order  and  precedence,  though  what  that  may 

126 


be,  I  do  not  exactly  know.  At  the  right  of 
the  King  sat  the  Crown  Prince,  Umberto,  and 
two  aides-de-camp  facing  them  on  the  front 
seat.  In  the  next  carriage  was  Amadeo,  Vic- 
tor Emmanuel's  second  son,  with  the  Prince 
Carignano  (cousin  to  Vi6lor  Emmanuel)  and 
another  aide.  Three  uglier  human  beings 
than  the  King  and  his  two  sons,  it  would  be 
dif&cult  even  among  crowned  heads  to  dis- 
cover. Amadeo,  especially,  seemed  a  sort  of 
skeleton  parody  of  humanity,  beside  whom, 
the  King,  coarse  and  unrefined  as  he  is  in 
appearance,  looked  almost  distinguished.  I 
had  gone  early  to  our  Consulate  in  Via  Mag- 
gio,  in  order  to  secure  an  uncontested  place  at 
one  of  its  two  windows,  and  amuse  myself 
with  watching  the  crowd,  a  little  before  the 
arrival  of  the  royal  cortege. 

The  sight  that  met  my  eyes  as  I  turned 
from  the  Idruaiola  de^  Pitti  into  the  street, 
was  enlivening  and  animating  to  the  last 
degree,  though  the  decorations  that  excited 
my  admiration  were  not  perhaps  in  the  best 
possible  taste,   "  NW?uportey     The  fagades  of 

127 


the  houses  were  in  a  perfedl  glory  of  green, 
white  and  red,  and  the  street  below  was  liter- 
ally dark  with  the  shade  of  innumerable  flags 
that  were  suspended  on  cords  from  one  side  of 
it  to  the  other.  It  looked  for  all  the  world  as 
if  there  had  been  a  grand  national  wash,  and 
all  the  banners  of  the  country  had  been  hung 
out  in  Via  Maggio  to  dry.  It  was  enchant- 
ing— the  flowers,  the  flags,  the  crowd,  the 
movement,  more  than  all  the  view  of  our  own 
dear,  old  "  Stars  and  Stripes,"  waving  proud- 
est among  them  all,  roused  in  me  such  a  fer- 
ment of  patriotism,  both  foreign  and  domestic, 
that  I  could  scarcel}''  await  the  King's  coming 
to  exhale  it.  My  pocket-handkerchief  com- 
menced instindlively  waving,  evvivas  were 
bursting  from  my  lips,  and  blessings  from  my 
heart,  when  the  attitude  of  the  people  col- 
lected in  the  street,  all  at  once  threw  a  wet 
blanket  upon  my  enthusiasm.  It  was  really 
too  bad ;  why  couldn't  they,  Italians,  be  sym- 
pathizing, and  gushing,  when  I,  an  American, 
who  had  no  particular  call  to  be  excited,  was 
overflowing  with  emotion.     I  knew  as  well  as 

128 


tliey  did  that  Vi6lor  Emmanuel  didn't  deserve 
any  homage,  but  how  few  heroes  ever  do,  and 
many  a  heart  would  rest  forever  motionless 
and  dumb,  if  desert  only  could  stir  it  into  life, 
so  I  still  said  "  Evviva  it  Re^^''  and  would  not 
allow  my  heart  to  cool  down  to  the  popular 
level.  I  waved  my  handkerchief  and  flung  a 
little  bouquet  at  the  King  as  he  passed,  and 
though  he  paid  no  particular  attention  to 
either  of  these  manifestations,  and  seemed 
supremely  indifferent  at  the  same  time,  to  the 
evidences  of  his  people's  dissatisfaction,  my 
conscience  at  least  was  clear,  and  I  had  noth- 
ing to  reproach  myself  with,  if  dislike  on  one 
side  and  indifference  on  the  other  marked 
Vidlor  Emmanuel's  reception  in  Florence 
where,  to  my  thinking,  Leopold  II  still 
reigns  supreme.  In  the  evening  there  was 
an  illumination,  finer  than  anything  that  has 
been  seen  here  for  years.  That,  in  spite  of 
the  rain,  crowds  flocked  to  see.  Oh,  how 
beautiful  it  was !  The  outlines  of  the  prin- 
cipal edifices  in  this  lovely  mediseval  city,  the 
glorious  Duomo,  the  graceful  Campanile,  the 

129 


curious  course  of  the  Arno,  seemed  garlanded 
with  incandescent  jewels,  tracing  their  perfe(5l 
forms  in  lines  of  fire,  and  a  blaze  of  light  from 
almost  every  house  in  the  city,  transformed 
its  stone  and  marble  palaces  into  habitations 
fit  for  the  genii  of  Oriental  tradition.  But  I 
will  not  attempt  to  describe  it,  for  no  words 
can  ever  do  it  justice  or  convey  an  idea  of  its 
marvelous  effe6l.  Whether  the  King  saw  it 
or  not  I  do  not  know,  but  think  it  more  prob- 
able that  he  was  in  bed  and  asleep,  dreaming 
perhaps,  of  Rosina,  his  morganatic  bride. 

Speaking  of  kings,  princes  and  the  like,  I 
read  in  this  morning's  paper  an  explanation 
of  the  report,  relative  to  the  Prince  of  Wales' 
death,  which  resulted  from  a  mistake  in  a  tel- 
egram announcing  that  "  the  Prince's  skill  in 
riding  was  greatly  admired,"  which  in  French- 
ified English  was  read,  "  the  Prince  is  kill^^'' 
and  led  to  the  mistake  that  sent  for  a  day  and 
a  half  all  the  Florentine  English  into  mourn- 
ing. A  report  of  less  importance,  but  greater 
authenticity,  that  has  already  been  alluded  to 
in  some  of  the  English  papers,  was  confirmed 

130 


to  me  to-day  by  official  authority,  which  is, 
the  presence  in  Italy  of  Surratt,  one  of  the 
conspirators  of  Lincoln's  assassination^  who 
has  been  in  the  country  for  several  months 
under  the  name  of  Watson,  dressed  in  the 
uniform  of  a  papal  Zouave.  His  presence  in 
Naples  was  recently  telegraphed  to  our  Con- 
sul in  that  cit}^  from  our  IVIinister  at  Rome, 
with  the  order  to  arrest  him  if  possible,  which 
unfortunately  was  impossible,  as  it  was  discov- 
ered that  he  had  already  left  for  Alexandria 
in  a  steamer  that  sailed  the  evening  before, 
Saturday,  November  17th,  and  was  to  touch 
at  Malta,  on  which  our  Neapolitan  Consul 
telegraphed  to  his  brother  official  at  Malta, 
informing  him  of  the  fa6l  and  reiterating  the 
order  for  his  arrest.  It  has  since  been  dis- 
covered that  Surratt  came  to  Naples  as  long 
ago  as  the  8th  of  November,  without  a  pass- 
port, but  stating  that  he  was  an  Englishman 
escaped  from  a  Roman  regiment.  He  pro- 
fessed to  be  without  money,  and  at  his  own 
request  was  lodged  in  prison,  when  his  con- 
dudl  exciting  suspicion,  a  sort  of  surveillance 

131 


was  kept  over  him  and  attempts  were  made 
to  discover  who  and  what  he  was.  To  the 
questions  asked  him  from  time  to  time,  he 
replied  that  he  was  a  Canadian,  that  he  had 
been  living  in  Rome  nearly  a  year,  when  his 
resources  becoming  exhausted,  he  had  enlisted 
in  the  papal  Zouaves,  and  having  been  put 
into  prison  for  insubordination,  had  escaped 
from  a  window  and  injured  his  back  and  arm 
in  so  doing.  He  remained  in  the  Naples 
prison  three  or  four  days,  when  apparently 
tired  of  the  confinement,  he  requested  to  be 
taken  to  the  British  Consulate,  and  went  there 
accompanied  by  a  policeman,  when  he  com- 
plained of  the  treatment  he  had  received,  and 
claimed  his  release  on  the  ground  of  being  a 
British  subject.  In  the  meantime  the  police 
had  found  twelve  sciidi  in  his  possession,  and 
when  asked  why,  having  money,  he  wished  to 
go  to  prison,  he  replied  that  he  wanted  to  save 
it.  His  story  and  appearance,  for  it  is  said 
that  he  is  very  good-looking,  and,  above  all, 
his  quality  of  British  subjedl,  immediately 
enlisted   the    sympathies    of  the    English   at 

133 


Naples,  and  money  was  raised  to  pay  his  pas- 
sage to  Alexandria,  to  wHich  was  added  a 
small  sum  to  provide  for  his  most  pressing 
wants  on  his  arrival  there.  He  left  for  that 
place  in  the  steamer  of  Saturday,  the  17th, 
and  as  in  case  of  the  telegram  reaching  Malta 
too  late  for  his  arrest  there,  a  similar  despatch 
was  to  be  transmitted  to  Alexandria,  it  is 
probable  that  ere  this,  the  miserable  creature 
has  been  arrested. 


Florence,  December  10,  1866. 

To  a  vain,  pretty  woman,  a  walk  through 
the  streets  of  Florence  must  be  a  very  agree- 
able event.  A  triumphant  monarch's  progress 
is  hardly  more  prolific  of  homage,  and  if,  by 
any  almost  impossible  combination  of  circum- 
stances, such  an  one  had  hitherto  been  uncon- 
scious of  the  power  and  quality  of  her  charms, 
a  half  hour's  promenade  on  the  Lung'  Arno^ 
or  through  any  of  the  other  principal  thor- 
oughfares of  Florence,  would  most  pleasantly 
dispel    her   ignorance.     The    Florentines,    as 

133 


every  one  knows,  are  a  demonstrative  people, 
but  whether  the  men  are  really  more  sensible 
here  than  elsewhere  to  the  attractions  of 
beauty,  or  only  more  independent,  I  can't  pre- 
tend to  say.  Certain  it  is,  that  they  express 
their  admiration  with  a  freedom  unknown  in 
other  parts  of  the  earth,  from  which  its  obje<5l 
can  onl}^  escape,  by  a  speedy  return  to  the 
family  nest.  Of  course  this  out-spoken  admi- 
ration is  excessively  disagreeable  to  its  vic- 
tims— indeed,  they  say  it  is — and  yet,  consid- 
ering the  indignation  it  excites,  it  is  surprising 
to  observe  how  patiently  it  is  borne.  I  have 
known  indignant  beauties  come  home  furious 
from  a  morning  stroll,  who  declared  that  they 
would  shut  themselves  up  forever,  stay  at 
home  like  cloistered  nuns  all  their  lives, 
rather  than  expose  themselves  to  such  imper- 
tinence, whom  the  next  fair  day  saw  parading 
the  same  streets,  apparently  quite  resigned  to 
endure  its  repetition.  One  young  girl  in  par- 
ticular I  remember,  whose  rage  at  being  told 
on  one  of  these  occasions  that  she  was  a 
"  belV  angelo^^^  was  something  quite  ludicrous. 


134 


*'  BeW  angelo  /"  she  exclaimed,  "  liow  dare 
he — the  wretch  !  Oh,  if  I  were  only  a  man  ! 
But,  girl  as  I  am,  he  shall  have  a  taste  of  my 
parasol  if  I  ever  meet  him  again  !"  In  short 
the  belV  angelo' s  wings  were  so  fiercel}^  ruffled, 
that  I  seriously  believed  she  would  never 
spread  them  again  in  a  Florentine  sky,  and 
was  never  more  surprised  in  my  life  than  to 
meet  her  only  two  days  later,  unaccompanied 
by  pater-familias,  with  a  parasol  indeed,  which 
did  its  duty  faithfully  in  keeping  off  the  sun 
in  the  firmament,  but  had  never  interposed, 
as  far  as  I  could  learn,  between  her  and  any 
son  of  man.  She  was  a  modest  girl,  too,  but 
the  most  modest  of  the  sex  loves  admiration, 
and  will  not  reject  it,  though  picked  up  in  the 
streets,  a  fa6l  of  which  American  husbands 
seem  strangely  unconscious,  when  they  send 
their  young  and  pretty  wives  without  pro- 
te6lion,  to  this  land  of  gallantry  and  intrigue, 
where  love-making  is  the  principal  manufac- 
ture of  the  country,  and  one  in  which  most 
of  its  children  are  accomplished  proficients — 
an  imprudence  of  which  I  am  reminded   by 

135 


the  well  known  fadl,  that  several  of  the  matri- 
monial disasters  that  have  befallen  two  or 
three  of  our  confiding  stay-at-home  country- 
men of  late,  have  had  their  origin  in  these 
chance  street  encounters.  But,  again,  apropos 
to  them,  I  must  not  forget  to  add  that  these 
running  comments  are  not  always  confined  to 
beauty,  or  invariably  of  a  flattering  descrip- 
tion ;  things  not  particularly  pleasant  are  oft- 
times  heard  by  the  greedy  vain  ones,  and, 
above  all  things,  an  eccentric  or  unusual 
toilette  is  sure  to  excite  remarks  more  promo- 
tive of  good  taste  than  good  temper,  for  a 
woman  any  day  would  rather  have  her  eyes 
condemned  than  her  bonnet,  and  beauty, 
itself,  if  ill-dressed,  cannot  escape  sarcastic 
criticism.  I  never  shall  forget  seeing  once 
upon  a  time  a  lovely  young  girl,  actually  cry- 
ing with  shame  and  vexation  at  the  observa- 
tions provoked  by  a  Nizzarda  hat  (a  Nice  hat) 
that  the  poor  thing  wore  for  the  first  time ; 
"  Oh,  my  eye !"  cried  one  of  the  tormentors, 
"  look  at  that  soup  plate."  "  'Tis  not  a  soup 
plate,"  said  his  companion,  "  it's  only  a  famous 

136 


big  musliroom  that  the  girl  has  got  on."  One 
gamin  told  her  that  she  looked  like  a  Chinese. 
Another  considerately  advised  her  "  not  to 
trouble  herself  to  buy  a  parasol ;"  and  though 
these  criticisms  did  not  proceed  from  patrician 
lips,  they  were  none  the  less  provoking,  and 
I  didn't  wonder  at  the  maiden's  tears. 

But  a  truce  to  Italians  and  their  impertinent 
and  naughty  ways.  I  went  last  evening  to  Mrs. 
Van  Nest's  weekly  reception,  where  a  greater 
number  than  usual  of  our  compatriots  were 
assembled,  for  the  drawing-room  was  already 
overflowing  into  the  study,  as  I  entered  early 
in  the  evening.  How  merry  every  one  seemed. 
All  the  world  was  laughing,  talking,  and  chat- 
tering together,  in  a  manner  so  unusually 
animated  and  sprightly,  that  I  could  only 
account  for  it,  by  remembering  that  joyous, 
merry  Christmas  was  at  hand,  reason  enough 
indeed  for  gayety  !  The  blessed  anniversary 
is  this  year  to  be  celebrated  with  unusual 
pomp  and  circumstance  in  our  church.  In 
facft,  during  Mr.  H — 's  reign,  it  was  never 
celebrated  at  all,   and  the  day  passed,  as  to 

137 


church,  commemoration,  wholly  unnoticed. 
Now  we  are  to  have  a  Christmas-tree  for  the 
children,  and  as  the  young  scions  of  native 
growth  are  not  particularly  numerous,  the 
children  connected  with  the  Vaudoise  church 
are  to  be  invited  to  share  its  delights.  The  la- 
dies of  our  church  are  consequently  in  a  delight- 
ful state  of  benevolent  adlivity,  and  no  wonder 
that  the  chatter  was  gayer  and  the  laugh 
louder  than  usual  in  Mrs.  Van  Nest's  pleas- 
ant drawing-room.  I  was  introduced  in  the 
course  of  the  evening  to  a  certain  grave — no — 
he  was  not  grave,  but  how  like  a  burr  certain 
epithets  do  stick  to  certain  conditions  and  call- 
ings,— but  to  a  decidedly  gay  Greek  professor, 
I  am  happy  to  say,  with  whom  I  had  such  a 
delightful  conversation,  and  who  talked  as 
well  as  if  he  had  never  seen  the  inside  of  a 
university.  Professor  M — ,  of  Chicago.  How 
we  did  talk !  Nothing  was  too  high  or  too 
low  for  our  tongues  ;  we  wandered  among  the 
stars,  not  disdainful  of  the  pebbles  at  our  feet. 
Naturally  enough,  we  did  homage  to  the 
mighty  dead,  whose  tombs  are  in  our  midst, 

138 


that  he  had  that  morning  visited — Michael- 
Angelo,  Dante,  Galileo — a  galaxy  of  glory — 
and  he  told  me  that  the  four  hours  spent  in 
Santa  Croce  seemed  hardly  one,  so  absorbed 
was  he  in  his  homage  to  genius  and  the  remi- 
niscences it  inspired — an  oblivion  I  certainly 
could  not  have  shared  this  cold  weather,  and 
that  in  his  case  was  nourished  undoubtedly 
by  a  warm  overcoat  and  thick  soled  boots. 
Thus  discoursing  of  one  thing  and  another, 
from  the  pure  intelle6lual  empyrean,  we  grad- 
ually and  safely  descended  to  the  regions  of  the 
tea-table,  and  I  defied  him  to  guess  what  Mrs. 
Van  Nest  had  in  store  for  us.  He  tried  once. 
*'No."  Again.  "  Oh  dear,  no,  how  can  you 
be  so  dull?"  A  third  time.  "No,  no,  no!" 
Farther  than  ever  from  the  mark,  like  a  true 
philosopher  and  Greek  professor  that  he  was, 
for  had  the  secret  been  hidden  in  the  clouds, 
or  buried  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  he  would 
soon  have  brought  it  to  light.  So,  at  last, 
tired  of  vainly  guessing,  he  gave  it  up  and  I 
turned  to  his  wife, — ^just  the  wife,  by  the  way, 
for  a   Greek  professor — so  gay,  sunshiny  and 


139 


merry, — and  she  on  the  instant,  divined  the 
enigma!  "Doughnuts!"  she  cried  trium- 
phantly, and  doughnuts  it  was.  But  even  she 
did  not  conjedlure  all  the  delicious  truth,  and 
that  "  riz  "  doughnuts  were  in  store  for  our 
patrician  palates  ! — The  "  riz  "  doughnut 
being  to  the  ordinary  articles  of  the  same 
name,  what  the  spiritual  is  to  the  carnal,  a  sort 
of  glorified  edible,  more  properly  qualified  per- 
haps as  "risen  doughnuts,"  what  we  might 
suppose  a  doughnut  in  short  to  be  after  its 
resurredlion. 

Since  I  wrote  you  last,  the  society  for  the 
encouragement  of  the  fine  arts  has  opened  its 
halls  to  the  public  and  the  exhibition  has  a 
special  interest  this  year,  as  being  a  rendez- 
vous for  the  display  of  the  works  that  are  to 
be  sent  to  the  Universal  Exposition  at  Paris. 
I  had  only  time  the  morning  I  visited  it,  to 
run  through  the  halls,  but  it  struck  me  that 
the  paintings  especially,  were  superior  to 
those  of  the  two  preceding  years,  that  a  visi- 
ble progress  had  been  made,  doubtless  due  to 
the  noble  and  inspiring  influences  of  patriotism 

140 


since  the  transfer  of  the  capital  to  Florence ; 
that  conventionalism  and  mannerism  were 
yielding  to  a  more  conscientious  study  of 
nature.  Here  and  there  a  marked  individ- 
uality was  revealed,  and  particularly  was  it 
visible  in  a  pi6lure  representing  the  abdu6lion 
of  a  young  girl,  Bianca  Capello,  by  Pietro 
Buonaventuri,  at  the  moment  of  her  depar- 
ture from  the  paternal  mansion.  Her  face  is 
turned  to  the  home  of  her  childhood,  while 
resting  tenderly  and  confidingly  upon  her 
lover's  shoulder,  and  nothing  can  be  more 
pathetically  touching  than  the  struggle 
between  passionate  first-love  and  filial  duty. 
Pity  it  is  that  a  knowledge  of  the  real  fadls  of 
the  case  should  destroy  the  charm,  and  that 
history,  pitiless  and  unromantic,  has  destroyed 
forever  all  illusion  with  regard  to  this  famous 
heroine  of  the  chisel  and  brush.  There  is 
also  at  the  exhibition  a  fine  life-size  study  of 
Garibaldi,  seated  and  apparently  in  a  reverie. 
What  are  his  dreams  ?  Italy  doubtless  is  in 
his  thoughts,  but  only  the  gods  can  fathom 
the  pure  depths  of  a  hero's  heart. 

141 


J 


14  DAY  USE 

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